Fallen Justice
by Thanatos Fernei
Summary: An original adventure, this is not based on the OC, though there are references to both NWN2 and NWN1's OCs. Now updating on Wednesdays. A fallen paladin and his companions follow the road, and adventure finds them... whether they wish for it or not.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: This story is not entirely my work; I wish to make that clear from the beginning. It is a group of us working together, so I do not claim credit for writing down every detail of what happens in this story, a lot of the dialogue and the plot came from my friends. Still, it is an excellent story, and so I don't see a problem with sharing it, as long as everyone realizes that I am not the sole author of it. Enjoy the tale.**

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**The Wind by the Fireside**

The Forgotten Realms have been quiet of late, yes. No wars have troubled our fair land of Faerun for quite some time now, eh? But then, sometimes, one does not realize when something momentous has occurred. You think that everything of consequence is recorded down in the scholars' dusty old books? Sometimes, the smallest of things can change the flow of destiny.

Yes, it has been quiet. It seems as if you can hear the very whispers of the southern winds, as they come racing across the Haradric desert, so quiet has it been. If you listen closely, then perhaps, just perhaps, it might tell you a tale. A tale of a time when the Realms were not so quiet. When something threatened the very nature of Faerun, indeed, perhaps all of Toril itself. What's that? You have never heard of such a time? As I said, child, not every great deed is recorded in the annals of history. Some live only through their stories, passed down from generation to generation.

Come, child, sit down by the fire, it is bitterly cold tonight. I will weave you a tale, oh such a tale! That you will not think upon the cold. Come, sit. Listen to me now. For I am the Weaver of Dreams, and, once in a great while, of Reality itself….


	2. Of Elves and Men

**Of Elves and Men**

Koravel was tired of traveling with no purpose in mind. Tired of simply wandering from town to town looking for the odd job to pay his way through. Sometimes he missed the time when he was a Paladin of Tyr, fighting injustice and evil... how naïve he had been. What hypocrisy he had discovered, among Tyr's elite. Looking around at where his feet had taken him, he saw a sign over the door of a ramshackle place just outside the slums of Waterdeep. The Inn of the Coiling Serpent. Perfect. A place to get some food, and rest, before going off on yet another journey. Barging inside, he stamped his feet to shake off the pervasive cold, and headed for the counter, and the stool next to it. Slamming his sword into the ground beside the chair, he ordered some standard Waterdhavian Ale. Nothing fancy, just enough to quench his thirst. The inn had obviously seen better days, there were just a few customers, most of them looking hostile at the half-elf, but none of them with enough guts to actually say anything to him. Giving one of the ones who was staring at him a fierce grin, he turned his attention back to his ale.

"Can I get a roasted sandwich wit' this? Don't matter what type o' meat ya got, jus' put a lot o' it on." Swiveling around on the chair, he surveyed the inn, looking for prospective employers. He was quite startled when a head rose from the stool directly next to him.

"Could you keep it down a little?" it asked. "Some of us are feeling a bit worse for the wear."

Endellion, known to her friends, (and some of her enemies), by the more common nickname of Shree, was feeling quite a bit worse than she looked. Drinking down four pints of strong dwarvish ale will do that to a half-elf barely five and a half feet, and thin, to boot. She was currently cradling a pint of pure, fresh, water in an attempt to help flush out the remains of said dwarven ale. However, she was wishing she had kept her mouth shut, as the half-elf next to her was gigantic, well over six and half feet, and with a sword bigger than he was. Without waiting to see his response, she quickly summoned the barkeep.

"'Ey! Barkeep! Whatever this fellow ordered; just put it on my tab." She held up her hands, palms outward, in the commonly known method, signaling her peaceful intentions. "Look, I feel too rubbish to get hurt, so let's just leave it at that, all right?"

Koravel laughed at the little thing trying to bribe him off. But he was feeling in a good way today, and the little half-elf was a pretty thing.

"Had a wee bit too much, eh? Don't worry 'bout paying for my stuff. You just nurse your water there. I may be a merc, but I taint about to pick on someone who's had one too many. Just downright unfair, it is. 'Course, wouldn't be much difference if you was in top form, little elf."

Turning back to the barkeep, he takes the sandwich from the man, and downs it in two bites. "Excellent. I'll have three more of these, barkeep."

The barkeeper's eyes dilate at the rate at which the big half-elf downed his food. "Well now sir, not to be rude and all, but those are some of my best meat and--"

Koravel turns his glare on the barkeeper, who promptly scurries off to find some more food. "And what brings ya 'ere, little elfling'? Trouble at 'ome?"

Endellion's face turned a little green at the sight of the food, and she dropped her forehead down to rest on the tabletop. "I stupidly bet a dwarf that a woman could drink him to the floor… and he took it literally."

Koravel's face turned red with suppressed laughter, but he could only hold it in for so long. "You… tried… to out-drink… a dwarf?" he asked, coughing and spluttering. His mirth subsided; Koravel asked his question in a different way. "But I meant, what are ye doin' oot 'ere? In a tavern, away from 'ome?"

"Home?" Endellion chuckled. "There isn't one. I have a room here, the bard was fantastic last night, and I've had about ten too many. That's why I'm here. Looking for someplace else to go, eventually." Koravel nodded, in complete understanding. When Endellion muttered under her breath, "How can a race so short handle their drink so well?" Koravel turned away so she wouldn't see him laughing. He had recovered himself by the time the half-elf asked him another question. "And who are you?"

"I am Koravel, jus' a simple merc lookin' for some work, that be why I'm 'ere. Say, ye wouldn't 'appen t' know o' anyone lookin' for mercs to 'ire, would ya, Miss… Blast it all. Where be my manners? What name does the pretty elfling that t'inks she can out-drink a dwarf go by?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," the half-elf chuckled. "I'm… just call me Shree. Everyone around me does these days. As far as work goes… no I'm afraid I know of nothing. I'm just as stuck here as you are. Doesn't mean I can't enjoy it." She winked at him, before signaling the waitress over, ordering another water. "Oh, by the way, I am no elfling, and I've always believed size doesn't matter, in any case." She pours a restoration potion into the water, and downs the whole thing in one gulp. After a few moments, she grins, and orders a pint of cider.

"Ah, my apologies, Ms. Shree. I tend t' make that mistake wit' many elves." He nods sagely. "From up here, ya know."

He watches curiously as she downs the restoration potion. "Well, that is one way to fix a hangover. It's probably the best too, I've tried 'em many of them in my time, yes sir. One day, I will manage to beat that surly dwarf what runs the inn outside o' town. Khelgahr, i'believe 'is name is. That sucker can put away many a pint, yes he can. I think I would've had him the last time, if that wee little elven sorceress hadn't up and decided to summon in a lesser demon right at that moment. So's then me and Khelgahr has to takes 'im out o' course, and that about put an end to any friendly competition we hads going on. Ah, that was a night, the entire inn a-toasting the two of us till the sun came out. And o' course, out of good manners, we had t' toast them right back. Best hangover I ever had, I dare say." Koravel gets a faraway look on his face as he remembers what happened. "Ah yes, he could fight too. I'd thought I was going t'have to take out that wee little beastie all by meself, and blimey if he didn't do most o' the work. Dancing round that devil's scythe like it couldn't touch him. You's right, little elf. Size doesn't matter, s'long as one 'as the heart to make up fo' the difference."

Shree smirked at him. "Just a plain old half-elf." Finally the blonde turns fully to Koravel and lowers the hood of her cloak showing the other side of her face. A fist sized bruise smears up across her cheek, her lip is split, her nose looks like it's been broken at least once before and the tip of an ear is missing. Aside from the fist-fight that has wounded her she can still pass as very feminine and her sharp green eyes dance with pleasure.  
"To the little things in life," she says, and taps her glass against his and takes a goodly swig "At least with you I know who to ask about altitude sickness." she winks before glancing around the room. "Tell you what I'd pay for..." she chuckles "Finding the idiot who did this," she points to the bruise and split lip while scanning the Inn, "And didn't say sorry. "Some people are too rude."

"And if _you_, Mister" she turns back to the half-elf with a smile "are going to go back and drink that Khelgar of yours under the table, then I'd _pay_ to see that too. You've got a better chance than me that's for sure." Her eyes glance at the sword and she decides that this Koravel is stronger than she is by far. "And be there to laugh at your hangover... and possible alcohol poisoning of course. Good luck to you on that."

Koravel is about to reply, when he notices that the inn has gone unusually quiet, and a murmur ran around the common area. He glanced up and saw a woman stagger into the room. Many eyes were locked on her, and it's really not surprising. Besides the fact her demeanor is defined and attractive with a certain air about it, her skin is a deep shadowy midnight blue with tresses the color of shadow. Her eyes are a startling shade of blue that express a tone ranging from the hardness of sapphire to the softness of the calmest sea. A pair of dark horns elegantly twists and turns back along her head and a long tail protrudes from her breeches.

Koravel's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "A bloody teifling," he muttered to himself.


	3. New Companions?

**New Companions?**

The teifling grabbed the barkeep as he passes her on the way to the kitchens, "Sir, did my associate Shael ever show?"  
"No, Madam. I kept my stable boy on watch for her."  
She sighs. "Thank you, sir. If I could have some biscuits and sausage, along with whatever fruit you have, I'd appreciate it."  
"Of course, Madam."  
She flops onto a barstool and mutters, "Bloody skald...making me do a whole set by myself...I'm gonna put a leech in her sock..."  
She glances over at the half-elf and elfish-person in the corner that are looking at her. She recognizes the small woman from the night before, although she didn't remember that delightful shade of green… _oh that's right, she tried to out drink that dwarf _.It wouldn't take much more than that to start some sort of fight. The half-elf must have come in recently. She quickly measures him. Prankster by the look of him. _Smells like he at least used to be a paladin...still got that lovely lingering smell. _Looked like he knew a sword pretty well. Looking at her funny.

At nearly the same time, an aasimar walks into the bar, but not just any aasimar. People look away from the teifling to focus on this strange apparition. He's wearing black and grey leather armor, with black chainmail over for the added protection, a black hood concealing his face. A black leather book is hanging from his belt in a silver chain and a silver mask resembling a skull also hangs in his belt. Around his neck hangs a small silver disk in a chain, also made of silver, it depicts a jawless skull with a quill through it, on a scroll. A black scythe is strapped across his back. He heads to the nearest bar stool, and sat down, apparently content to wait for the barkeep to return from the kitchens.

Koravel practically rubbed his hands with glee. "O, aye, looks like we be havin' some company. A teifling and an aasimar, well, if that isn't a fortunate coincidence." Leaning over so he could whisper into Shree's ear, he told her, "That thar be the easiest way I ever heard tale of to start a good old bar slugging. A teifling and an aasimar walk into a bar..."

She chuckled, obviously tickled by the idea. "Ouch."

The teifling was obviously examining him thoroughly, and Koravel felt uncomfortably like she could see right through him. She noticed his stare, and raised her voice so he could hear her. "Whaddya want, berk?"

Koravel grinned. This really was too easy. "Thar be only one teifling I've heard tale of, who's brave enough to just walk into a bar deep inside Waterdeep. Don't rightly recall her name, but I's do remember that she boasts she could take any celestial and kick 'em from Waterdeep back to their 'oly 'ome using just her fists." Koravel says the last sentence loud enough so that the aasimar can hear him.

The aasimar merely sighs. "Perhaps you are looking for the temple of Gargos? I believe there is one down the street." He reached down into his pouch, and completely ignored Koravel altogether, pulling a piece of bread out to blunt his hunger.

Koravel laughs heartily as the aasimar easily deflects his attempt at starting a fight. "Well played sir. I wouldn't wish to get on t'wrong side o' that teifling either. My, she looks like she could take you to town. A good job at coming up with an excu-- I mean... a reason... not t'fight 'er." He says slyly, raising his goblet in toast. Which, of course, gives him an excuse to down more ale. "Barkeep! Where is my meal?!"

A very nervous bartender squeaks from the kitchens. "It's coming, it's coming!"

Shree almost chokes on her drink trying not to laugh when the black-winged man brushes off Koravel, and allows herself a smirk as the half-elf replies. Seeing that the aasimar won't rise to the bait she too finishes off her pint... then orders another from the waitress. She is drinking far more slowly than Koravel, for good reason.

Soon her eyes rest on the quiet man in black and she catches a glimpse of the pendent. "Jergal...?" she muttered to herself. "That'll explain the scythe at least."

As Koravel bellows to the barkeep she looks around at the big half-elf. "Keep scaring the poor man like that and you'll never get fed, sweetling." she says "Big person like you yelling at him, it's a small wonder he hasn't keeled over from fright already"

Though her tone is patronizing there is a glint of 'jest' in her eyes but she still caught Koravel's eye and winked at him, just to make sure the merc understood she is teasing him. The last thing she wants is a fight of her own, especially with a guy who owns a sword that looks like it weighs more than a small dragon.

Shree turns her gaze onto the teifling and looks at her curiously. She is quite unsure what to make of the lady.

"I know you from somewhere..." she says eventually, her mind rolling back to the hazy events of the previous evening "Last night I think, you're very familiar at least. You didn't happen to punch me in the face last night did you?" the half-elf asks innocently, brushing her hair back behind the pointed ear in an obvious display of insecurity over the lack of an ear-tip on the other side. She is also careful to keep her skin inside the cloak and only reveals a scar covered forearm with a brown gloved hand; the scarring is a sharp contrast to her scarless face. She covers herself up again, more because she is cold from the draft of the open front door, than for vanities sake.

The teifling rose from her barstool, "Aye, I was here last night." She gives a theatrical sweeping bow, "T'rissiira Halidor, at your service. I was the entertainment for the last evening, until the brawl started anyways. I tend to pack up as soon as I can in such situations; many of my performance instruments are somewhat fragile. I did note the fellow who bonked you a good one, though. Big ol' human, decently groomed but rough around the edges. Seemed to be the farmerly sort. I doubt he would have hit you if he hadn't been drunk, and in a brawl; certainly he wouldn't have been able if you were sober. He staggered out shortly afterwards."

She winks at the trouble-making half-elf, "What's the matter, berk? Don't wanna fight the fiend-spawn yourself? Understandable. Scrappy little thing like you, with such astounding skills of subtlety, cannot hope to stand for long." She grins and makes a little bow to show Koravel she's teasing him.

The barkeep comes in laden with plates. He sets a plate in front of Koravel with his dish and sets a plate of biscuits and sausage and a small bowl with various fruits on the bar near T'riss.

T'riss smiles, "Ah! There's a good man! Thank you, Master Nathan. Would you like myself and, if she turns up, Shael to perform at your inn again tonight?"

The barkeep smiles...barkeeps have a hard time resisting her bardic charm, "Not if you don't wish, lass. If something comes up where you two have to leave, then so be it. But we'd love to have you here."

"I'll keep it in mind, Master Nathan. Thank you." She places a handful of silver pieces on the counter, "For the half-elf ruffian's meal, as well as whatever the little one wants and the aasimar; unless of course, none of them wish me to pay. I'm hardly going to force it upon them. If they don't, take it as a tip for your fine beds."

The barkeep bows and fetches the drink Shree had ordered.

T'riss turns to the Aasimar and offers a hand, "Jergal, aye? Pleased to meet you; haven't seen many followers of Jergal around...you know...given how he stopped being God of the Dead a while ago. Good to see the ol' fellow still has his supporters, though. Has a hell of a job, he does. What brings a fine feathered cutter like you to Waterdeep?"

The aasimar barely looks at T'riss and he ignores her hand, as he begins to talk. "You have not seen many of us around because most of us are in hidden monasteries, writing down the names of the deceased, or other, even more important details. He sits for a while before answering her other question. "I am Azrael. Companion of the Pallid Mask. I received word of a group of necromancers defiling a cemetery near Waterdeep, denying the dead their rightful rest. I am on my way to stop them, and deliver the word of Jergal to them as they join the ranks of their 'servants'. I stopped in at this inn to rest, as I have not had any for some time." When the barkeep returns Azrael finally looks up. "Barkeep, some meat please, I am hungry after my long journey."

T'riss turned to the others. "Well. Who else do we have here, aye?"


	4. Threats and Rumors

**Threats and Rumors**

Shree winces when she is called 'little one' but doesn't say anything, hoping she can ignore the title.  
"I'll just add the drink to my tab," she says quietly as she takes her drink from Master Nathan. "Name's Shree," she says and takes a sip of the cloudy cider. "Nice to meet you. Unlike Azrael, who seems to have a reason for being here, I'm a wanderer, a traveler I suppose. Have been for ten years or so. Seen things, done stuff and now... I'm simply looking for something to do. And the performance was brilliant, the bits of it I remember... memories of the brawl are few and far between though." She extends a gloved hand to shake T'riss'.

T'riss moves her extended hand to accept Shree's handshake, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Shree! Please, if you have any tales you wish to share, feel free. I travel a great deal, but I cannot be everywhere all the time, so any new knowledge is precious."

Koravel laughs for a good two minutes when T'riss turns his insult neatly on his head. "It might not be a good thing that a teifling lass such as yourself has such a sharp wit, in certain cases, but I like it. Many thanks for picking up the tab, lassy. The name's Koravel, and, as I was explaining to Ms. Shree here, I'm just a simple mercenary looking for work." Knowingly elbowing the aasimar, he says, "Them undead is like to give ya some trouble, eh, cleric? Ye could hire a little extra help, for say, 1000 gold pieces, ought to do it. Whaddya say to that, me good man?"

The aasimar dodged his elbow, and glanced up at him disdainfully. "If I wanted to hire help, I would do it at the temple of Gargos, where I am likely to find much better help than you could offer me. In any case, Jergal protects me, so I have no need of your help." The barkeep places a plate down in front of the aasimar, and Azrael takes out a small knife, carved from some sort of bone, and begins cutting the meat.

Koravel throws his hands up in the air in mock apology. "Woah, tough guy! I'd just prefer t'be ready, ya know? No telling what those crazy gods might do. He might just up and let ya die on a whim, or because someone stronger than 'im told him t'letcha die. All I's saying is, one has got to look out for oneself, eh? But if ya prefer to take on them zombies all by your little self, go right ahead." He slaps the aasimar on his back in a friendly fashion. Turning, he headed back over to his meal.

The teifling raised her voice as Koravel walked past her. "Why in the hells do ye remind me of a paladin? You certainly don't smell, or act like one."

For a large man, Koravel moved exceptionally fast. One hand was around T'riss' throat before she realized what was going on; and the next instant, she was hoisted into the air; so the half-elf could stare her in the eyes. Every trace of his accent was dropped, and he spoke in a voice that was ice-cold. The inn had gone utterly silent. "All right, you. Not a very subtle way of asking, the last one they sent was a bit better at worming her way into my confidence. You had better explain how ya knows I was a paladin, or I'll snap your skinny little neck like a twig."

T'riss doesn't fight back, she simply grins. "Heh...Clueless...I'm a tiefling, berk. The taint of fiend upon my soul, etcetera...etcetera...My nose gets itchy around Pallys. You don't quite make my nose itch, but give me a feel like my nose should be itching or some such. Now…" She smiles, revealing her pronounced pointy canines and lifts a hand up to grasp Koravel's arm gently. She flexes her fingers, revealing slight claw. "I would advise letting go, or I'll stop playing nice. It's not polite to threaten a bard's voice box."

Koravel looks slightly embarrassed, but covers it up with a deep cough. He gingerly set T'riss down on the floor. "My apologies, lass. I'm a bit on t'edge lately. Tyr don't give his followers up easily, and it'd been so long since someone had done me a kindness, I's just assumed you picking up t'tab was your way of worming your way inta my confidence." Looking chagrined at his mistake, he bellows at the barkeep, "Give the lady whatever ya gots that she wants back there. I's pay fo' it."

The barkeep blinks several times, then turns a stare on Koravel that says plainly that he has had enough. Pointing a long finger at the half-elf, he squeals, "You, sir, have not paid any of the last four times you were in my tavern. You think that just because you've been gone two years from this place, I'm going to up and forget your tremendous bill? Nuh-uh. You pay for--"

Koravel had been growing angrier and angrier, and finally he cuts the diminutive barkeeper off, vaulting over the counter next to him, though he doesn't actually touch him, given his recent debacle with the teifling. "What in t'name o' all the gods are ye going on 'bout, man? This is t'first time I've ever been t' ya bloody tavern!"

The barkeep's face goes a bright shade of red. "You owe me over 300 gold pieces! You ain't gonna get out of that one simply by pretending to have forgotten!"

Koravel grabs his sword from the bar, and holds it threateningly close to the barkeeper's good ale. "You dare call Koravel a liar??"

Discreetly Shree grabs a waitress and whispers something in her ear before slipping a bag into the girl's hand.

With a nod of encouragement and a fair amount of 'shoo'ing Shree gets the waitress to approach the barkeep and she too whispers in his ear, handing him the bag without Koravel seeing.

The half-elf reaches over and rests a hand on Koravel's sword arm, gently coaxing him away from the fight.

"We're supposed to stay on this side of the bar," she says quietly and turns to the barman, "I'm sure this was just a misunderstanding, this man is no liar and I want you to apologise to him," she growls.

"Miss Shree, I... Errr..." the barkeep starts to say, but seems to quickly figure out what the bag he has hidden behind his back is full of and guesses that green-eyed half-elf might be the 'payee'. "Sorry about that. Yeah... yeah that's right," he says, remembering about a longsword he has if things got messy. "Just a misunderstanding, a big one." He waits, hoping that the half-elven merc will calm down.

"See?" Shree smiles sweetly at Koravel. "I don't want to lose my drinking buddy, would you mind joining us again?" Taking her hand off his arm she pats the stool next to her.

At no point does she even hint she has paid off the tab, even if it wasn't Koravel's and she hopes she was discreet enough that the tall guy doesn't realize it was her even if he figures out the tab has been paid.

Koravel looks slightly surprised at how easily Shree makes the barkeeper back down, but assumes it is just her way with words. "Well... apology accepted I's suppose, berk. Now, 'ows about that drink for the teifling lass?"

Turning back to Shree he shook his head; and something akin to wonder dances in his eyes. "I's never was much of a sweet talker, but that was amazing." He grins, and sitting back down at his chair, raising his glass to her. Koravel is always looking for excuses to drink ale, and toasts are the best way to do it. Draining it dry, he ploughs back into his meal with relish, glancing at Shree every once in a while and chuckling.

T'riss covers her mouth to hide her smile. "Yes...she's quite a sweet-talker isn't she? Don't worry about my drinks, berk." She sits down at their table, "I don't drink much and I had plenty last night."

Shree smiles. "If it makes you feel better, I'm not one for words either," she says truthfully.

As Koravel returns to eating she catches T'riss' eye and puts a finger to her lips with a wink, hoping her slight-of-hand earlier would remain between them.

T'riss returns her wink, and turns to Koravel, taking a sip of the water she has in her hand. "So. Former Paladin of Tyr. Presently a mercenary. Odd that they're chasin' after you. Never heard of 'em doin' that before."

Koravel looks up from his meal. "Well... I didn't exactly just up and leave. When one finds out that t' people you've trusted for your entire life are all bloody hypocrites... suffice t' say, I gave them something t' remember me by. As in, they had t'pick a lot of new high paladins after I left. The first one that found me demanded i come back, repent and face judgment. T' next ones didn't bother talking." He finished his meal, and pushed back his chair. Pulling out a cigar, he lit the end, leaned back in his chair, and relaxed. "One gets over t'ese things eventually I suppose. I really don't worry about anyone they send unless he's got a bigger sword than me." He grinned widely, obviously telling the truth. He really isn't worried about the fact that there are bounty hunters after him. "Taught me a valuable lesson, though. No god or his gang of fools should be trusted. One has got t' look out for oneself, and only oneself."

The aasimar glanced up, his face expressionless. "Enjoy your time on the wall, then." Before Koravel can answer, he turns to the barkeep, obviously not caring what the half-elf was going to say. "Have you heard of any necromancers in this area?" He is apparently ready to leave as soon as he gets his answer. The barkeep doesn't hear him at first, giving Shree a chance to interject.

"I've heard rumors of undead. Not necromancers, though they do go hand in hand. One of the caravan guards who was with me, said his wife, who lives in a small village, can't quite remember the name of it but it's up the road... _anyway_, his wife was wandering about the cemetery to the east of their home-town, so that's between here and there thinking about it... and she was paying her respects to her father, nice man actually, a little on the rough side but that's not a bad thing, right? I mean, everyone has a punch-up once in a while, and I've always liked that in a bloke but he did have to take it a little far and get killed. Funny story about that actually... ah, I've wandered off topic again, haven't I?" She quickly takes a swig of her cider "Soooooo... where was I... ah yes, undead! This guy's wife swears she saw a zombie there. A few other people have complained about undead along the road between here and... urm... there... what _is_ it called? There have been twenty undead sightings I think, perhaps more. A mummy was spotted on the road, I was there, actually, I killed it, as much as you _can_ kill something dead. Oh! And couple of adventurers never came back after they went to go investigate the undead disturbance but I'm _sure_ it's nothing really. So long story short, there have been rumours of undead in the cemetery between here and Amphail... that's what it's called! The village is about three days easy walk from here... the cemetery is only about two days or so. And that is the extent of my knowledge."

She goes back to her drink and pauses just as she is about to let the glass touch her lips. She puts the glass down, and adds, "I was thinking about heading for Rassalantar, the Caravan stop halfway between here and Amphail. Try to get myself hired as a sword-arm." She looks over the aasimar for a moment "Travelling with you might be a good idea, especially if there's more undead about. If you're going that way at all. If not... I'll just stay here and wait till the undead problem goes away. Or hire myself a body guard," she finished with a laugh.

Azrael listens to the half-elf for a while, and seems to think about it before answering "If there are unsanctioned undead roaming then they must be put down. You may come, but do not expect me to pay you."

"No payment necessary" she says with a smirk "I've been on the road for a few seasons and I think I can get by easily enough for a season or two more. Besides, I was looking for an excuse to get out of here and the Long Road was one I'm going to head down anyway. From there I'll head north to Triboar and then north-east up to Silvery Moon. After that... who cares," she chuckled.

She finishes her drink and rises. "I'll just go pack," she smiles. "I can see you're eager to go. Another place to look for Necromancers is right here in Waterdeep. The City of the Dead, the western part of the city could be the place you want. But I've heard nothing sinister from that part and... I've been here a ten day already."

"Tell me about it" the waitress mutters as she passes Shree.

Shree grins, wraps her cloak around her and takes her leave, for a few moments, at least.

T'riss looks a bit sadly at Koravel as he makes his proclamations about his opinions of the gods and their followers and shakes her head. "If you don't mind the company, Azrael, I'd like to come, and likely my companion Shael as well. She's a good hand with an axe or a hammer and a strong voice. We're both looking for stuff to do and tales to write, so she'll likely come unless she's found other work. Certainly," she waves a hand dismissively, "we would not require payment. We both abhor the undead and take pleasure in giving them a good bashing."

She inclines her head respectfully, "It is, of course, up to you."

Leaning over a bit and pointing at Koravel, she says, "And take it from me, berk, whether you trust in the gods or not, many of them are worthy of praise and respect. Don't use the Tyrrans, much less one region of them, as your golden example of a religion. Good folk for the most part, don't get me wrong, but certainly not representative across the board." She sits back and puts her hands up, "But, it's really not my affair, or my place, what you chose to believe about the gods or those that follow them. I've said my piece, and I'll leave it at that."

Koravel looked immensely sad as he replied to T'riss. The Wall is t' worst thing t' gods and their gang o' fools 'ave done. How just can the gods be, any of them," he adds, looking pointedly at T'riss, "if they allow that monstrosity to stand?" He shakes his head. "If the gods hold your allegiance simply fo' fear o' what might happen after you die, then they do not deserve t' be worshiped a'tall, they deserve t' be rebelled 'gainst."

T'riss shrugged. She had said her piece, she would let the half-elf find the truth in time. In the distance, a low female voice can be heard bellowing, and the teifling perked up considerably. "Ah...I see my comrade is finally coming..."


	5. The Long Road

**Author's Note: The updates will be rather quick for the first several chapters, as the story is already written up to that point, after that they will slow down a bit. But for the first few, I am simply converting them to Microsoft Word format, and then uploading them to the site. The story looks much cooler in Vivaldi font, but unfortunately, I can't upload the story on this site in a different font, or at least, I can't figure out how to do so.**

**--**

**The Long Road**

A large barbarian woman walked into the room. She is obviously the source of the previous noise. "T'riss! Hells, you two-bit snaggle-horned excuse for a bard, I've been looking for you everywhere! Where were you last night! I waited all night at the Copper Serp--"

T'riss starts laughing and Shael flusters, "What is so funny!"

T'riss grins, "Shael, my hot-tempered friend, I told you the Coiling Serpent Inn five times and wrote it on your hand three times. It's not my fault if you weren't sober; and washed your hands too many times."

Shael blusters wordlessly, but quickly calms down, a twinkle in her eye, "Bach! Bloody tiefling. I'd break you in two if you weren't so much fun. Are we staying here to perform tonight?"

"Depends, you want to bash in some zombie-skulls?"

"Do I?! When do I not! Just point the way!"

T'riss gestures at Azrael, "His trip, don't know if he wants us to come, but it's up to him."

She leans over and "whispers" loud enough for Shael to hear, "Don't mind her, she'll calm down. And a steadier head in the field I've never met."

Shael beams, "Whatta yah say, fine-feathered one?"

Azrael looks at T'riss. He didn't take long to make up his mind. "Yes, you may come, and your friend as well."

Koravel had listened with an expression of interest on his face at Azrael's description, and now his face fell a little when he hears the rest of them are all going to go. "Ach lassy, good luck t' ye. If someone cannae afford t' pay, I cannae afford t' go. Have fun slaughtering poor undead things." He goes back to drinking his ale, looking slightly frustrated.

Just then Shree returned. She is still shrouded in the dark green cloak, but it has caught on her hand which covers the hilt of a longsword on her left side. Underneath, she wears a specially fitted and designed armor. The armor itself is a practical mixture of brown leather and brushed unidentified metal which covers everywhere but her forearms... hence the scars, it is assumed. She must have paid a goodly amount to have the armor made to still appear flattering. There is also a longbow lazily thrown across a shoulder. After pausing for a few moments to make sure her ears are covered up in a mirror on the wall the half-elf joins the others again.

She came back down the stairs in time to catch Koravel's last comment. She bit her lip, but decided it would be worth it to have the big half-elf along.

"I've got enough to support another," she turns to Koravel from where she had just finished paying her bill at the bar. Her last venture must have paid her very well. She throws him a leather pouch.

"Consider yourself hired, in a fashion," she chuckles. "Should be a thousand in there. If you are willin', of course. Let's face it; if Azrael here is nice enough to let these fabulous ladies travel with us it's going to be a blast! You don't want to miss the fun do you?" she adds with her most winning of smiles.

Azrael lowers his head a bit. "I am not sure if I trust the faithless one, that type only seems worships coin and cheap ale, but he can come too, if he must." He puts on the silver mask. "But if you come, you must swear that you will not defile the graves of the deceased." Azrael then simply stands, apparently offering a silent prayer to Jergal.

In almost any other case, Koravel's pride would have made him refuse the thousand gold pieces, but he really is down on his luck, so he swallows his pride, and bows to Shree. "Very well, my lady. I shall ensure that no 'arm comes t' ye on this little excursion." Grinning profusely at Azrael's statement, he points at himself with all the naive innocence he can muster. "Me? Defile graves? Why, I would never do such a thing, little aasimar. But aye, I 'ave what may amount t' a reverence fo' coins and ale. That's why the only god I ever considered worshiping after I... fell... was Waukeen. Apparently, however, he does not appreciate someone who 'as such a reverence o' ale and coin, that one would... liberate... both from t' church cellars and offering plates. After that little incident, we 'ad a slight falling out." He grinned widely.

Shael slaps T'riss on the back, "Aye! See! We get to go bashin' skulls in! Don't you were, feathered one--"

T'riss interjects, "Azrael."

Aye, Azrael. I won't touch the graves of the deceased; 'tis disrespectful to ones ancestors. Unless, of course, we need a key and one of the sleepers has it. Then I'm going to be forced to fetch it. Same goes for "Sword Intended for Slaying Enemy A" and such. Then I believe the ends justify a bit of disrespect. And--"

T'riss jabs Shael in the side, "What she means to say, is we would never wantonly defile the dead, for fun nor profit, but if the circumstances truly demand such, we'll look to do what's necessary not to _join _the dead. I hope that will suffice."

She rises from her chair and offers it to Shael, "I'm going to grab all our gear. What bashers and hackers you want at hand, Shael?"

Shael ponders for a moment, "Gimme that one warhammer with the thingamajober and my good spear. You know, my favorite one!"

T'riss sighs, "I think I know what you're talking about...as much as those descriptors describe everything..."

She walks upstairs to gather their equipment.

Shael kicks her booted feet up onto the table. She's in leathers that are an interesting cross between barbarian styles and the basic style of much of the North. A heavy furred cloak hangs from her massive shoulders and drapes down to gather on the floor. Her strong but elegant fingers quietly tap on a small war drum hanging on her hip and her foot bounces with her own internal beat. Her deep blue eyes are shining with eagerness to be off fighting instead of sequestered in a tight city, and the escaping frizz of her curly dirty blond hair only adds to her look of wildness.

"So, comrades in arms! Where 'bouts are we headed?"

Shree winces slightly at the mention of stealing from Waukeen, but says nothing more. Instead she inclines her head to Azrael and can barely hide her anticipation.

"I do not mean to disrespect your beliefs," she says slowly, "But the lady bards have made a good point. As they said, no defiling of graves unless it is for the purpose of keeping me alive and there is no other option."

Shree gives Koravel a blank look. "Keep me from harm? Why in all of Faerun would you want to do that? You don't even know me and it's not as if...oh!" she blushes as she realizes her mistake. "No, no no! I was only teasing with the whole 'hiring you' thing. Listen, I'd have only used the gold to buy a new pair of boots, then shack up here for another ten day _anyway_... so at least this way it will be used for something worth-while. From now onwards we call it quits - you don't owe me anything and vice-versa. That bag I gave you; never existed."

Assuming the matter with Koravel is closed, she doesn't wait for an answer, but looks around at Shael. "We are heading to Amphail, a village three days to the north-east...ish. It's has been having undead problems. Missing persons, zombies, some people have gone to have a look and they didn't come back... you get the picture. Seems the problems stem from the cemetery a day's journey to their south-west. So it's a two day journey for us. There's a caravan stop named Rasselantar a day's hard walking from here along the road to Amphail and I was planning to rest up there for the night before continuing to the cemetery. It's safe at Rasselantar, Waterdeep maintains a barracks and an Inn for the vans... and us travelers. Lots of people, pretty hectic, busy, plenty of work... I'm looking forwards to going back."

Shael grins widely, "Aye that sounds like an easy job! After all, zombies have never been too proficient at hiding their tracks!"

T'riss comes back into the common room. Her own deep dark blue padded armor is on and a shadow cloak over her back. A fine strong saber hangs at her hip and a buckler on the other. All about her belts are scattered many pouches, a small crossbow, bolts, a bullet bag, and so much more. A deceptively small backpack rests under her cloak and she tosses another to Shael, who catches it.

"Bought a good month's worth of rations from Master Nathan. Not much meat, but we can get that ourselves. In our bags, the fruit and vegetables won't go bad, either."

She sticks her hand into one of her largest pouches and is engulfed up to her elbow. She pulls out a warhammer and hands it to Shael, who buckles it on to her belt.

"Thanks, T'riss. My spear and shield?"

"I couldn't carry everything, they're in your bag."

"Ah!" Shael sticks her entire upper body into her bag, fishing around. She pulls out a shield and a simply, but beautifully, engraved spear.

Shael grins, "Well, it seems we're prepared whenever the rest of you are!"

Azrael glanced around at the unlikely group, and, seeing that everyone seemed to be ready, headed towards the door. "Then we go."

Koravel buckled his chain-mail on, and slung his sword over his back. "Let's go kill some dead people."

"Oh the irony," Shree chuckles to Koravel.

The half-elf raises her hood while walking out with a slight limp in her step. Last night had been fairly rough. However, as she leaves the Inn she breaths in deeply and grins.

"Goodbye!" she calls out and marches off down the street towards the western most gate. She sets a quick walking pace, not keeping a good eye on if the others are following, she already wants to be back on the open road again and doesn't want to wait.

The Inn happens to be in the Trade Ward, an area of the city that bustles with merchants and buyers... Shree skirts around a large cow... livestock and fortunately right next to the west gates.

As soon as she is at the gates a male voice hollers out to her. "Endellion!"

Shree whips around and smirks as a gate guard approaches "Hey there, Davvid. Anything we should know about out there?"

"A few orcs were killed a couple hours from here along the Long Road towards Rassalantar but I've heard nowt else except more 'dead-but-not' stories from Amphail way." He shrugs. "Are you coming back?"

It's Shree's turn to shrug "Perhaps."

"Figures." Davvid sighs. "I... just take care of yourself, Endellion."

With that said the gate guard wanders off again and Shree starts for Rassalantar, glancing behind her to make sure she was not alone. She smiled as she saw her companions, walking along the road after her, and took a minute to admire the half-elf walking in front. He noticed her looking, and winked. Shree quickly jerked her eyes back to the path ahead, blushing slightly.

Koravel had heard the entire conversation, and was rolling her name over his tongue. "Endellion. Such a pretty name," he muttered to himself. As he passed the guard, he gave him a fiercesome glare, chuckling as the man caught his face, and jumped in fright. "'Ave a nice time on guard duty, berk! Many dangerous creatures infest your town o' Waterdeep! Why, it was only yesterday I was attacked by two fierce mice! They beat me up and stole some o' my ale. If ya need a description, I think small, gray, and drunk about covers it. Ya might want t' bring some backup, they are a pair of rogues." He strides onto the road behind Shree, still chuckling to himself.

Azrael came behind Koravel, and as he passes the guard he does not look at him, but is obviously talking to him. "If we are lucky he might get killed," and with that, he follows Shree and Koravel.

Shree caught Koravel's conversation and laughs outright.

"And you said you didn't have a way with words," she comments to the big half-elf, as he pulled even with her.

Finally she looks around and slows a little to let the others catch up, her initial hastiness somewhat diminished now they are leaving the safe confines of Waterdeep.

T'riss frowns at Koravel behind his back for his treatment of the guard.

Shael is not so silent and hollers after Koravel, "Hey, there's no need to be rude to the guard! He's doing a fine job, ain't yah, Sir?" She claps the guard on the back, "Don't worry, some of us appreciate your guarding and the like."

Koravel calls back over his shoulder to Shael. "I's was just informing his guardness o' t' theft o' my ale! 'At's somethin' that they should knows 'bout. 'Tis a bad time when ale-thieves are allowed t'roam where'er they please."

Azrael sighed, clearly not thrilled with the half-elf. "Perhaps in your case, it is not so bad a thing."

Koravel looks extremely serious, as if he is scolding a young child for getting into the cookie jar. "T' theft o t' great and most wondrous drink known as ale, beer, or whiskey, is a serious offense. It is a most heinous crime, regardless of t' victim. T' criminals who perpetrate such horrific actions should be forced t' go without ale fo' a full month." He shudders, as if this would be a most repugnant fate. He is still shuddering as the companions struck out again, finally leaving the town of Waterdeep behind. The wilds beckoned.

Shree is content to amble on a little ahead and alone, the sharp eyes beneath her hood watching for anything untoward. Occasionally a small group of travelers would pass them on the road and if she were greeted she would respond, otherwise she kept to herself.

The road itself is almost straight, a few bends here and there make it less dull and the land around them starts to climb. Still it remains pretty treeless. To their right are the silhouettes of the Sword Mountains, to their right is marsh-land.

Hours pass and Shree sees a bend in the road, around the corner comes shouts and the smell of burning filters through the air, along with the scent of something Shree knows all too well.

"Orcs!" she snarls and takes her bow from her shoulder, notching an arrow before she scrambles up a rock so she can see around the corner.

Flames lick around a cart turned over in the road while a single man tries to keep an orc from his female companion. Shree aims and pulls back as soon a she sees a child hiding in the woman's skirts, letting the arrow fly straight through the orc's forehead. It drops, stone dead and the half-elf spots at least three more orcs charging for the couple. Without a word to the others, she's too used to just her own company, she draws her sword and sprints in to help.

T'riss smells the fire and orc sweat on the wind and, when she looks up from her conversation with Shael, sees Shree's arrow fly. With a feral grin, she draws her saber and slips on her buckle and darts into the path of the three orcs descending from the hill.

"T'riss! Duck!" Shael hollers. As T'riss does, Shael throws her spear at the lead orc and impales it straight through. The spear disappears, leaving the orc to bleed to death, and reappears in Shael's hands. An arrow whistles in and skims across Shael's skull and she curses loudly and turns to see a group of orc archers in the bushes. She runs to engage them, spearhead flashing in the sunlight and arrows thudding into her shield.

As she meets up with the rushing orcs, T'riss brings up her buckler to block the first orc's overconfident overhand chop. She turns beneath it and hamstrings him before a small dagger springs from the side of the shield, which she drives into the orc's eye as he falls. For a bard in battle, she is atypically silent, but the rhythm of her movements is music in itself.

When Azrael sees the orcs, he stops and stays where he is, as this is not his fight. He does, however, pray to Jergal and magical barriers appear around Shree, Shael and T'riss, deflecting the orcs's arrows.

Koravel calmly unbuckles his sword, and gripping the enormous weapon, he leapt behind the archers and ambushed them. The orcs most probably never knew what hit them. The black sword seemed to have a life of its own as it cleaved through the archers with grim efficiency, leaving most of them hewn in two pieces. Koravel watches as Shael, T'riss and Shree take care of the orcs that have surrounded the man and his family. As the last orc falls, a voice that is most definitely not Koravel's breaks the silence in the area.

"Ahhhh. Nothing like good orcsblood in the morning."

Koravel appears to be talking to himself. "Shut up, Gil'rad, you'll scare t'poor folk."

"But I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not. You don't have to--"

Koravel stabs his sword into the ground to clean it, and leans on the hilt. The voice abruptly cuts off. Koravel remains leaning there, apparently resting, even though he isn't even breathing hard. He addresses the aasimar.  
"Listen, holy boy, fo' orcs, I's could care less, but if'n we fight anythin' big, you'd better give me a shield next time as well, especially if you're just goin' t' stand there. Just because you don't like me, is no reason not t'do ya part in t'battle."

Shree is incredibly surprised to see the others joining in and almost halts in her tracks. The screams of the child break her stupor and she lends her aid to T'riss, taking on the second orc that thought to attack the teifling while she was otherwise engaged. Shree's method of attack is nowhere near as refined as T'riss. She prefers the fighting style of 'hit-target-as-many-times-as-possible-till-it-falls-over' for now, she sees no reason to bother fighting properly. As soon as the Orc is down Shree swaps back to her bow, arming it in record time, bringing it round and pulling off a headshot to an orc she can see running off down the road.

As the orc hits the ground with a wet 'thud' she puts the bow away and turns to T'riss.

"I wasn't expecting help... thanks, seriously, I mean it. Would you excuse me for one moment please?"

She marches towards the supposed family.

"Is anyone hurt?" Shree asks quickly.

"N...no" the human says "Thank the gods you were traveling along here when you were. If it weren't for you my family would now be..." he is cut off when Shree growls.

"What were you thinking?!" she yells "You do NOT travel without protection, especially when there's a child with you!" She looks ready to blow but bites down her anger "Just... get out of here. I saw a Waterdhavian patrol further back towards Waterdeep, they'll sort you out."

The family took one look at the furious Shree, then retreat hurriedly. Shree turns away from them, a snarl on her lips, her eyes flashing with pure hatred.

"IDIOTS!" she shouts, while she tries to vent off her anger.

When she calms down Shree smiles gently to her traveling companions. "Thank you. It's kind of nice to have back-up for once... what was that about shields, Koravel?"

Koravel looked with suspicion at the aasimar. "T'was nothin'. I hope." Sighing, he pulls the sword out of the ground. "Brace yourselves. Now that he's decided he wants t' talk... t' floodgates are opened. Ladies, Azrael... this is Gil'rad."

The voice speaks again, in a very ticked-off tone. "You know, that is so rude, big guy. How'd you like it if I packed some dirt around you to make you shut up, eh? I don't think you'd like it very much at all. Nope, not at all. So next time why don't you-- ooh." The voice breaks off in mid-sentence, and then continues in a very high and mighty manner. "Hello there. You must be Ms. Shree. Endellion. Such a wonderful name, don't you think? And it goes with such a wonderful figure too! I just love wonderful names, though, they roll of the tongue, well, in a manner of speaking, because you see, I don't really have a tongue, oh no, I'm just a plain old piece of metal, it was so horrible, this big ugly demon trapped my soul in here, and I have no idea how to get it out, really, and it hurts quite a bit being squeezed in here like this, don't you hate big ugly demons? They are just so rude sometimes, and they are just so vicious, and-- oooh. A teifling! Have at thee, madam! I will suffer none of your fiendish tricks. Stay away I say! If you take just one step closer, I'll leap out of Kor's hands, I will, and cut your head right off! And--"

"Oh really?" Koravel interjects dryly. "And how, pray tell, are ye goin' t' accomplish that? Can ya swing yourself now?"

Gil'rad keeps on talking as if Koravel had never said anything. "--I've cut off the head of many a demon-fiend in my day, and before I got myself into this bloody mess, well actually it was a big ugly demon that got me into this mess, demons are so rude sometimes, don't ya know? And anyway, he trapped my soul in this blasted piece of metal, but before he did I killed many of his demon-spawn, o yes I did, spells going this way and that, incinerating them and all that, but the blasted demon didn't even play fair, oh no, had to sneak up on ol' Gil'rad, yes he did, snuck up behind me like a coward and-- oooh. A human! Traveling with this strange group, are ya? And how do you get along with Ms. Demon-spawn over there? Eh, eh? Bet a fine young lass like yourself hates demon spawn like a good little girl, right? I tell ye, demons are so tricky, but I killed a lot of em in my time, I did. Why I remember one time that they had me outnumbered 30 to 1 and I gave em a right good thrashing, sent the little buggers running right back to their demon mommies I did and then when the dads came back, I thrashed them too, right, and then I told em never to come back here again, or I'd rip the very hides off of-- oooh. An aasimar! Now there's someone one could have a proper conversation with. What, pray tell, is thy name sir? How many demons have you killed in your time, eh? Come on now, no need to be shy, I bet a big feller like you has killed many a demon in his time! I bet I've killed more than you, I must've killed like, o I don't know, over a thousand at least! Have you been to the abyss? Big fire place, ya know? Lots of filthy demons there, and-- hey!"

Koravel mercifully sheathes the sword, stopping its incessant flow of words. After massaging his ears for a few seconds, he says, in a strained voice. "Sometimes, it really isn't worthwhile to have a weapon that talks as well as fights."


	6. The Sleeping Dragon

**The Sleeping Dragon **

(It's just the name of an Inn, don't go getting all worried.)

Shree's jaw has dropped.

"Good gods!" she exclaims. "A talking sword... that talks more than I do when I get going... incredible"

Her eyes fill with childish wonder.

"I've always wanted to meet one, even when I was a little girl and Gil'rad was so..." she blushes and her voice gets a distinct 'dreamy' quality to it "...complimentary too. Ahh. Why can't men be like that? Is he single?" She smooths down her armor over her hips, with a grin. She is obviously joking. Turning to Koravel, and returning her voice to normal, she asks, "How did you get it? How does it see? How did it know my real name... ah, when I was talking to Davvid, I see. But, how old is it? Can Gil'rad ever be freed? Have you tried? Can I touch it? When it gets chipped does it hurt Gil'rad?"

She stops talking when the beginnings of a sunset filter out across the way they had come. Shree watches it for a moment then sighs.

Koravel laughed. "Whoa, one question at a time, and I'll try to answer them. " He took a deep breath. "Gil'rad cannae be freed by any normal enchantment that I know of. I-- we-- were told that a powerful warlock might'n be able t'free him... but I dun want t' get 'is 'opes up. We've been told someone could free 'im several times now, and it never 'appens t' be that way. As for how I got 'im... I freed 'im from that demon 'e was rambling on 'bout. If t' sword is broken, Gil'rad would die, I know that, but I'm not sure 'bout whether it 'urts 'im if it gets chipped." Koravel smiles at her other question. "You can touch t' sword, but I dun care t' bring 'im out 'gain right now, as I'll get a lecture on respecting 'is feelings."

Looking at the half-elven curiously, he asks, "Why did ya get so mad at them folks? Somethin' like that 'appen to ye?" He finishes his query gently.

Shree looked away, up at the sunset that was setting in the sky, and ignores the question. "We should get moving, it will be getting dark very soon and I'd rather not travel long by moonlight. Three more hours till we get there if all goes well, two hours till nightfall. Could be worse I suppose..." taking a hip-flask from her belt Shree takes a swig, not noticing just how strong it is then offers it around "Any takers before we move? It's laced with a light healing potion, has a good kick too. More importantly, Azrael, is there anything you want done with the dead...orcs?"

The aasimar had not seemed in impressed in the slightest by Gil'rad, but he does seem to react to Shree's inquiry. "The dead are the dead, in death we are all the same, but that does not make it any safer to stand around here. It is not my duty to bury them or anything else, they have their own gods, but I shall record their names." Azrael takes the book he has hanging in his belt and starts to write something in it.

It only took him a short while, and then he looked up. "There, we can go now. Their souls are bound to their god, or the wall if they have no faith, their mortal shells will not walk again. Their names are forever written into the book of souls, only the current god of death can change that, and, as he is bound to my master, he will not release them."

Koravel's snort of disbelief came through clearly on the night air; the half-elf did not even try to hide his doubt that the aasimar had what amounted to the book of the dead on his person.

Shree sighs, and looks straight at the half-elf, drawing him aside as the party continued on. "I did not wish to tell everyone of what occurred, but if you still wish to hear…"

Koravel nodded, his eyes seeking hers out, and Shree unfolded her tale. "I've seen it so many times before. Traders going on ahead without the main train just to get into the big Cities before the night ends and they are so sure they will be fine that they take innocent people with them. They end up dead. My little sister did." her eyes look sad "I ran out in the morning, to find them when her and her boyfriend had gone from a train we were with. All I found was smoldering wreckage, their bodies and a couple of trolls." She pulls the cloak back and shows the scars on her arms, claw rakes across her flesh, then covers herself back up again. "Those trolls fought, I nearly lost my life but only lost an ear- tip and they felt fire and steel before I had finished with them. I'm sorry, I... shouldn't have said anything... forgive me."

"But as for moronic Traders," She nods to Azrael. "I bet he's written down a good few of their names in his time and there'll be more to come. Hopefully that one has learnt his lesson... fat chance though. Come on, I need a drink and I know for a fact the Sleeping Dragon Inn serves a very good 'special' brew. The best thing is we have two bards traveling with us and good Inn awaiting; so I can warm up a little," she grins, trying to hide her bitter sadness.

Azrael grew tired of their slow progress, and suddenly leaping forward, grabbed Shree under the armpits and flew off ahead with her. Koravel's sword nearly took the aasimar's feet off as he swung, cursing when he missed by a hairsbreadth.

T'riss smiled. "Relax, I doubt he took us out here in the wilds just to kill us. In fact, it's not a bad idea. I can carry you, if you wish, Shael I know would prefer to run."

"That I would," the big barbarian said with a grin.

Koravel grimaced. "Very well. T'things I do for money. Mind that Gil'rad doesn't "accidentally" take your 'ead off."

T'riss gently, but firmly, grasps Koravel under his arms. "See you at the Inn, Shael. It's only a few more miles."

"Aye, T'riss, I'll be along shortly. Minutes, you'll see."

"Make it half a candlemark, and I'll buy your ale tonight."

With that, T'riss takes off into the air. Shael grins broadly as she watches them move through the air. "Tiefling...hope you brought enough gold."

With that, Shael takes off at a rolling race; she'd run 'cross the tundras of the North in the depth of winter since she could run at all. Years of brutal living and the focused mind of a hunter. She would never falter.

And burdened as T'riss was, Shael would beat her to the inn.

--

Shree shrieks in shock as Azrael grabs her but quiets down when she realizes she isn't in any danger and enjoys the ride.

"Now that's the way to travel!" she laughs before heading into the Inn.

The din of the bar envelopes Shree as she heads in, taking off the cloak and draping it across a shoulder. A few heads turns to watch her, a couple more watch her behind and one set of eyes wince at the sight of her.

"Well now," the barman glares. "Look who's come back. I want no trouble from you, the boss won't like it at all if the men from the barracks have to come over again to pull you out into the road"

Shree holds up her hands. "You and I both know I didn't start that fight, Jace, and I'll be gone in the morning anyway. Listen. You don't have room to shack up five for tonight do you?"

"Depends on if you have something to offer," the barman leers.

Shree glares. "In your dreams. I have the gold, do you have the rooms or not?"

"We do," Jace finally says. "I know you're a brawling trouble maker, what about your friends?"

"One is a follower of Jergal, there are two bards and a mer- a guy. "Shree hastily corrects herself.

"A what?"

"A merc."

"A merc." Jace says flatly.

"It's only for _one_ night, pleeeeease?" Shree begs.

It was about then that Azrael, having concluded his prayers to Jergal for the safe flight, walked into the inn. There was a sudden hush as every eye turned to regard him, most with unfavorable expressions. He casually walked over to the barman, not bothering to take off his skull-like mask, and leans over the counter. "Is there a problem here, Shree?"

--

Koravel tumbled out of T'riss arms, his face as white as a sheet, and he fell to the earth, kissing the ground with fervor_. "_O ye forsaken gods! Sweet precious land!" The half-elf is pale and trembling. He presses his lips to the ground with fervor, and stumbles into the inn. In a hoarse voice he yells for the bartender, "Ale, by t' love of t' gods! Ale!" He sits down at the bar, unknowingly next to Shree and Jace. "Flyin' tain't natural. Just tain't natural. I ain't never doin' that again."

--

Jace's face had become alarmed when Azrael ventured over, and he hastily replied that there was no problem at all, when the door burst open and an extremely large half-elf barged in, calling for ale, and directly behind him came an equally large woman, and, by all the hells, a bloody teifling! His glare returned, and it focused on Shree, who attempted to make herself as small as possible.

It is then that the teifling and the barbarian walk over to him, and wonder of wonders, they are bards! They offer to play at his establishment, and he is just thinking this night might turn out all right after all, when the door opens a second time. His first thought is that the new customer might just be a normal customer, but that changes utterly when the person pulled a small knife from his belt, and even from this distance, Jace could see it was covered in a gleaming green substance, and hurled it at the half-elf sitting at this bar, who had just risen to demand more ale.

--

Koravel wasn't dead drunk, but he was approaching the state of inebriation commonly known as drunkenness, and probably wouldn't even have noticed the attempted assassination, except for an irate Gil'rad, who was most likely only irate because he had unintentionally foiled the assassination plot, as the dagger had hit him instead of Koravel. The metallic clink echoed around the room, along with Gil'rad's scolding of the man who had thrown it_. _"I say! Throw that blade somewhere else, you mangy-faced scoundrel! Oooo! Look, Kor, its Reginald!" Which had the very desirable effect of immediately snapping Koravel out of his dazed stupor. Drawing the weapon, which, of course, caused quite a commotion, he turned. The assassin had no desire to cross blades with Koravel and ran for the door, but he was not quick enough. Koravel hurled the sword at him, and, unfortunately for Reginald, who had his back turned, the half-elf's aim was dead on. A dull thud of metal on wood reverberated around the inn, and the unfortunate Reginald was left pinned to the door, his head lolling to one side, and his eyes already dimming. Koravel marched over to the man, and with a ghastly smile, patted his head. "Nighty night, Reggie." Gil'rad, meanwhile, was not enjoying his predicament in the slightest, and any visitors to the inn would have had the extraordinary sight of a sword sticking straight through an apparently talking door.

"How would he like it if I threw him for a change, eh? O no, he wouldn't like it one bit. Hurling me into a bunch of nasty wood, that splinters up and scratches oneself up all over. He does have a knife for these purposes, o yes, but of course he has to throw me instead. Nasty big half-breed just hurling me whichever way he please, without a second thought at what I might get myself into. One of these days he's going to throw me right over a cliff, so he is, and that will serve him right, and oooh--! I say! That's an interesting species of bird, I once had a collection--"

Koravel finally managed to tug the sword out of the door, leaving a neat hole in it, and Reginald slumped to the ground, leaving a bloodstain on it as well. After sheathing the still irate Gil'rad, he turned to face the barkeep and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't suppose sorry will cover it?"

T'riss hurriedly tosses the barkeep a small bag of silver, "That'll cover it, won't it, sir?" She smiles charmingly at the barkeep, who reluctantly nods his head. She taps Koravel on the forehead, and grins, "Next time, use something small and sensible like a dagger. Would have worked just as well and not ruined the door. And Gil'rad wouldn't have had to been up to his ears in oak."

She cocks her head at the sword, "What does the fellow have against fiends anyways? I mean, in particular, they're certainly mostly worth of enmity, as a general rule, but he seems to harbor a personal hatred for them."

Koravel grins right back. "Hmmm. 'is soul was permanently trapped in a sword by a demon-mage. Ya think that might have just a wee bit t' do with it?"

Jace waves his hand, and a pair of guards come in to take the body away. They appear to be about to question Koravel as well, but Jace waves his hand again. "Leave him. Self-defense."

With a grimace at the damage that has been caused to his inn, Jace turns to Shree with an angry glare on his face. He snaps his fingers. "The racket that half-elf made jogged my memory. There are only four beds left, so I'm afraid that you will have to stay outside for the night. I hope it's not too much of a bother."

Shree doesn't attempt to argue, but turns and heads for the door, with a gloomy look on her face. A strong hand grabs her by the shoulder, and steers her back around towards the bar. She looks up in surprise to see Koravel on the other end of the hand, a stony expression on his face. "You stay in 'ere, lass. I'll sort this thing out."

Koravel looked up, and saw Jace hurrying away towards the stairs, but the barkeeper wasn't as fast as the half-elf, and he found his way blocked by Koravel, who very casually drew Gil'rad from his sheath, (who for once in his life remained quiet), and began to polish the sword. Being intentionally a little free with how he handles it, so that the tip waves around the barkeep's face several times, he speaks in a very quiet, yet ice-cold voice. "I's sure that a _gentleman_," he stresses the word, "such as yourself would never send a lady out inta t'cold. No, a _gentleman _would give up his_ own_ room so that a lady could have somewheres to sleep. And finally, if that is not possible," Koravel's eyes turn venomous, and the edge of the sword touches the barkeeper's neck, and remains there, "a gentleman would never punish said lady for what someone else did. If he did, some other gentlemen might be a little angry. And certain... things..," as Gil'rad dipped down towards Jace's heart, "Might get broken. You got me?"

Shree looked entirely astonished that someone was taking her side for once, and she watched with glee as Jace's face lost most of its usual ruddy color to turn a pale shade of gray. A blue-skinned hand reached in and gently pushed Gil'rad away from the barkeep's throat. T'riss leaned in.

"What my associate means to say, good sir, is that it's surely no skin of your neck to allow us her to stay. There is only profit in it for you, is it not? She's not going to do anything and neither," Shael comes up and leans idly on Koravel's chair and T'riss looks Koravel pointedly in the eye, "Will my associate cause undo problems. It is not his fault an assassin tried to kill him and for you to hold him against it would look upon your management unfavorably. Would it not, Shael?"

Shael clears her throat and sings a little tune:

"After bowing and scraping their sorrows  
at the damage their plight had caused  
The innkeeper's eyes glowed like a demons  
and he turned them into the cold!"

She smiles, "Surely no, Master Innkeeper, the telling would not be favorable."

Koravel hastily sheathes Gil'rad, as he is suddenly irate. "I say! Get your hands off of me you... you... argh! I'm so angry my profanity is suffering."

Jace's eyes glittered as the sword was now out of sight, the barkeep seemed to have a short memory. "If you recall, good sir, I did offer the lady the use of my bed earlier. I even offered to warm it with—for her, but she refused, and thus the offer of the bed was gone as well." Jace doesn't want to lose the bards, however, so he consents with a grimace. "Very well. She may stay one night, and only one night." He turns away from them, and back to tending the bar.

Koravel turns his glare on T'riss. "What in the nine hells was that for? He would 'ave given in, I know 'is type. You did nothing but reinforce his arrogant behavior!"

T'riss merely glanced at the half-elf disdainfully.

Koravel threw up his hands. "Bah! Enough of this. Waitress, more ale! What did ye ever do to that guy anyhow, Shree?"

"Sorry about him. I was part of a brawl that got half this place burnt down a season ago. Not my fault mind but the man who owns this place doesn't trust me much and Jace doesn't either. T'riss and Shael have saved everyone here so much hassle and you really didn't have to stick up for me, Koravel, but... thanks," she says with a warm smile.

Her cider arrives and she quietly starts to drink it.

Koravel grunts. "Shael and T'riss did nothing but save the barman 'is head. 'e was goin' to give in, I know 'is type, more inclined t' agree wit' a sword, than a tongue. And people look down on mercs, 'e's worse than a lot o' t' mercs I knows." He finishes his fourth beer, and reaches for another. Even Koravel can't really hold that much ale without getting at least slightly drunk, and the half-elf does look a bit tipsy. "Brrraaawls. Marvelous t'ings. A good proper brawling makes everyone happy." He taps his drink to Shree's. "Bottoms up, lass."

Azrael seems to ignore the possibility of a battle and the intimidation of certain barkeeps, but writes down another name in the book.  
"No more threatening the barkeep, Koravel, or no more ale for you, unless you want to sleep out among the orcs."

Shree's eye dance with pleasure as she accepts Koravel's toast

"You're certainly the nicest merc I've ever met, and I've met a lot in my wanderings." She smiles before casually downing her own pint. She catches a barman's eye. "Could we have the keys to our rooms? Oh and could I have something to eat sent up to whichever one is mine, once we've decided who is where that is, and another pint right here if you would? Drinks for the rest of these fine people would also go down a treat - can't let our bards go thirsty, not good for ones voice, or so I've been told."

Once Shree's pint arrives, the barman fetches the keys and hands them to Shree after his eyes scan her still cut lip and the gradually darkening bruise on her cheek. He then waits to serve the others.

"Who's sharing that room with two single beds then?" Shree asks the group, then Azrael's comment reaches her ears. She turns slowly to face Azrael with the look of one who isn't sure if they should laugh or not. "I hope it doesn't come to that, if Koravel here is thrown out then I'm gone too," she shivers involuntarily. "Makes me shiver just _thinking_ about that cold fog out there... and Orcs. I still can't figure out how you knew the names of the ones we took down today... very, very creepy"

Taking a goodly swig of her cider the half-elf stretches as the cold from being outside earlier slowly ebbs from her bones. She takes the time to take the bow off her shoulder, throw her cloak over the back of her seat and settle down into her chosen spot for a long haul.

"Nothing like a good brawl to warm you up either, certainly adds a little spice to an evening" she winks at Koravel. She lowers the volume of her voice, green eyes of curiosity watch Koravel intently, "If you don't mind me asking... who was the now dead one? It seemed like you knew him."

--

Shael and T'riss have begun to set up against a wall of the inn where there's a small "stage". Their heads are close together in hushed conversation, until they finally stand out on the stage. Without any sort of preamble, the start a small "intro" type song that starts quiet and calm and builds into a lively tune. It ebbs and flows between styles, sometimes sounding elven, other times like a barbarian's epic, a harsh battle song, a lover's tale, and more...After a couple minutes they stop, smiling.

Shael bends down and taps a patron on the head who wasn't listening, "Hey there, good sir. Since the finer instrumentals seem to not be to your taste, what would you like us to perform for you?"

The patron's a ragged ol' farmer and he grins gap-toothed, whether due to the attention or due to Shael's low cut shirt one couldn't quite tell, " 'ow 'bout a good ol' bawdy song, lass! Somethin' lively!" Shael smiles at the man, "Of course."

She rises and she and T'riss begin to sing a silly song about a fire in a tavern wherein everyone runs to the cellar to get drunk. It's a happy song, and pretty soon all the active listeners are grinning.

Behind the music runs a small line of bardic magic, directing and calming the common room patrons to prevent bar brawls and keep the audience amused and entertained.

--

Koravel help up a finger to Shree. "One moment, lass, if ya please." He raises his voice to address the aasimar_. K_oravel grins mockingly. "You'd have to kill me first, aasimar, and i'd just love t' see ya try that. Watch who you're threatening, you ain't my boss nor my better. You aren't the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve."

He turned back to Shree, not even noticing as the aasimar departed without a backward glance, taking the key to his room as he did so. "Now, I believe ye had asked me a question. Let's see. Reginald Hortwyte was a whipped brat, who did whatever 'e was told. 'e would never question anythin' 'e was instructed t' do. Basically, a perfect young nobleman turned inta a paladin. 'e would always try t' get me inta trouble. Not really a good paladin, just a whiny spoiled brat. Never more than a nuisance. Always took t' coward's way out, as shown by 'ow 'e tried t' kill me."

The two of them sat there as the night grew older, drinking their beer, (or cider in Shree's case), and listening to the two bard's perform. Finally, T'riss and Shael grow tired of singing, and step down from the stage after their fifth encore or so. The two bards gratefully head upstairs to get some rest for their throats and their bodies, sent on their way with a pair of large ciders from the barkeeper. T'riss winked at Koravel as she passed. "Still think your way is the best method of persuasion?" Koravel merely grunted. "I am in no mood for a philosophical discussion this early in the morn. Take it up with me tomorrow and I'll let ya know. G'night."

--

Outside in the now dark streets a man stands partially concealed in the shadows, a large cloak covering him, the darkness behind him hiding a large pair of wings, he had stood there listening to the music coming from in the tavern, he was a little disappointed when it stopped, but the darkening skies told him it was definitely time to be gone, he was already drawing suspicious looks from guards. In one swift movement the Avariel let the cloak drop and took off at an unexpected speed.  
This was proving to be the most interesting assignment he had been set in a long time...

--

Shree and Koravel had resumed talking after the music ended, it was an interesting conversation, with long pauses where each would try to think of something to say, Koravel finding it especially hard in his inebriated state. Shree finally thought of another topic. "In some ways I wish T'riss hadn't interfered but... in other ways I don't mind so much. It means we get to have warm beds and much fun tonight. I told you Tr'iss was brilliant and Shael was amazing too! I don't know why you stuck your neck out of me, but it's really appreciated. Sweetest thing a guy's ever done for me... gods, listen to me," she laughs. "Only one more drink I think. I'm getting sappy!"

Ordering what she has now decided will _definitely_ be her last pint, (honest), of cider she runs her finger around the edge of the glass in thought for a while.

"Koravel?" she asks and looks up, her eyes betraying her uncertainty and her mildly intoxicated state "You were a Paladin of Tyr? Well... what happened? I guess you didn't just wake up one morning and think 'no, wait, this is a load of bull'...right?"_  
_

Koravel, whose condition has steadily improved, for as the night wore on, he would drink his ale slower, turns his gaze on Shree's. "Weellll. I's suppose I can tell ye what 'appened. Ya see, one o' my last missions was t' protect this snotty brat that some nobleman 'ad paid us t' get safe and sound t' 'is granny's." He snickers. "They called it a donation, but ah knew what it really was. And this brat, well, 'e kept rubbing me t' wrong way, see. Actin' like I was 'is servant, see. So I popped 'im one on 'is noggin, put him right t' sleep. Well, dear old Reginald just 'ad t' inform our superiors what I 'ad done, as 'is royal whinyness didn't remember it 'appenin'. That started a slide, where I found meself disagreein' with our 'oly superiors more and more often. Well, I didn't particularly agree wit' us takin' money fo' protection as a temple o' Tyr, but that wasn't what really woke me up t' how corrupt they were. I found out our high priest was takin' some other forms o' payment besides money. As in, some ladies would come in and... well. Ya get t' picture. I walked in on 'im with someone, and it was someone that I thought 'ad loved me. I kinda saw red fo' a few minutes, and when it cleared." He shrugged his shoulders. "I 'ad to fight my way out o' there, and in t' process, killed some o' t' brats in ol' Reggie's gang. They were really only there 'cause Reggie 'ad paid 'em all off. So after that I left, and t' new high priest bought t' position, and lo and behold, it was ol' Reggie's pater. So that ended any chance at reconciliation, and I'm glad now. Besides t' odd 'oly bounty 'unter, t' life o' a merc is much better than that o' a paladin. For one thing, ye can drink more ale!" He grins, and drains his glass, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

"I can't blame you for losing it," Shree says quietly. "To walk in on _that_..." She shakes her head in sorrow.

A moment later, however, and she looks mildly confused. "One thing puzzles me though, and you can tell me to shut up if you want to, just because of those bastards, pardon my language, you gave up on your whole faith?"

Koravel stared at her, and seemed to be about to break into an impassioned reply, when Shree suddenly goes utterly quiet.

Shree had felt someone rummaging around in her pockets. With frightening precision and speed for a drunk she grabs the back of the thief's head in her palm and slams his head onto the bar with such force he slumps silently to the ground. She does all this in a split second and without ever taking her eyes off Koravel. Luckily the common room is still full of noisy people and the incident goes unnoticed.

"But I have to agree with the ale," she says as she neatly drops her cloak over the top of the unconscious thief to hide him and speaking as though nothing had happened, "I don't drink the stuff much though. Makes me violent." She finishes off her pint and rises from her seat

"Now, if I can just figure out where the stairs are, I'm going to go to sleep before Jace finds that... errrr..." she closes her eyes and clicks her fingers a few times while she tries to remember the word "...'s on the tip of my tongue... problem!" Her eyes snap open and she grins. "That's it! Well, g'night."

As Shree walks off to her room she notices Jace watching her with cat-like interest, waiting for her to slip-up and give him an excuse to throw her out onto the street... again. Feeling the need to annoy the barman she blows him a kiss but makes a show of catching it, sending it Koravel's way instead and then giving Jace an incredibly rude 'one-fingered salute' before storming off up the stairs.

Koravel smiles as Shree blows him a kiss good night, and he whispered after her retreating figure. "Nay, lass, that isn't the 'alf of it. But I'm afraid that you'd despise me if I told you why I really left. And I couldn't take that."


	7. Revelations

**Authors Note: This will be the last update for ten days or so, my college has a fall break that I intend to take full advantage of, starting next Wednesday, and since I have a test and a bloody long paper to write between now and then, I won't get around to uploading another chapter. That said, this chapter is the longest one so far to make up for this. Enjoy!**

**--**

**Revelations**

Shree yawns as she sits up in her bed, and thought, "_My sleep last night was a fairly restful one, though it might have been better if Koravel had been sleeping—My goodness! Where did that thought come from_?" She blushed, even though it was just a thought and no one could have heard it even if there had been anyone there to hear. She sets about getting dressed while mulling over things that were said or done the day before. Yesterday morning she was sitting, bored ridged, in an Inn she had practically started living in and _this_ morning she was off to look for undead... with an aasimar, a merc, a teifling and a barbarian.  
_  
"Can things actually get any weirder_?" She muses as she brushes and braids back her hip length blonde hair.

While she in front of the mirror she touches and inspects her missing ear-tip, which is now so obvious while not hidden under her hair, wondering if her chances with certain peoples around the Inn last night were going to be spoiled because of it, not that there was with _anyone_ she had been talking to. Suddenly she runs from the mirror, dives for the ice cold bowl of water she had left on the side and submerges herself in it as punishment for being so vain... and for letting her mind wander into the 'naughty' uncharted territory of 'what ifs'.

Now dry and with her hair as loose as it was yesterday Shree ambles downstairs and orders breakfast, a bacon sandwich and a pint of milk. Sitting down at an empty table with her meal she keeps to herself and waits for the others.

Azrael is the first down the stairs, the aasimar had spent the night in prayer to Jergal. He hardly required any sleep. He said nothing to Shree at first, but went over to the counter and ordered some meat and a glass of water. After it arrived, he took the plate and the glass over to the table, and sat down opposite Shree. "I see you're already awake," he commented.

Shree is halfway through downing her milk and looks up, then quickly wipes away the milk mustache.

"I see you are too." She smiles, "As soon as I hit those pillows last night I was out like a light. I think it might have been the cider but... no worries. Anyway, I've been listening out for anything on nasties, people talk so loudly it's hard to miss it, but the commander or whatever, at the barracks behind the Inn here seems to think it wise to advise travelers to stay away from the road towards Amphail. More sightings, more missing peoples, ah you get the idea. Do you really think this could be your necromancers or are you simply here because of the undead? Either way, it doesn't matter, you're still here to help... or at least I hope you are. All we have to do is follow the road a half day further and we'll be at that cemetery I've mentioned. Never been in the thing, just walked past it on the odd occasion that I'm in _this_ part of the world. Send me back to Athkatla and its sunshine... and warmth. Perhaps I'll go back some time."

She takes the last bite of her bacon sandwich before licking her fingers and picking up the glass of milk.

T'riss and Shael come down the stairs, T'riss quietly joining their table and nodding a greeting.

Shael, on the other hand, walks up to the bar and bellows back towards the kitchen, "Heya, barkeep! Your bards would like some breakfast! And some ale!" T'riss twitches her tail and Shael grins, "Pardon! An ale. Devil-horns here would like some juice." She comes to the table, "Juice indeed...bloody tiefling. I've never met someone who can hold their ale better than I can, but no, you order _juice _. Bloody waste of a liver."

Shael gives T'riss a light whap on the head, "You think too much too early in the morning, Tiefling."

T'riss grins, "You drink too much too early in the morning."

"Bagh! Nonsense! Ah! Innkeep our thanks!" The innkeep himself has brought their breakfast out and it's a good, hearty, if common, fare. Sure enough, Shael had her ale and T'riss has a dark juice. The innkeep quickly excuses himself as another patron bellows for him.

Shael settles back with her ale, "Too early indeed..."

The door to the inn opened, and Koravel stepped through, just in time to catch Shael's last comment, and he chuckled to himself, correctly guessing what she was referring to. "Nothin' like a good run before brekkist, eh, chaps?" However, as he turns towards the barkeeper, there is a noticeable bloodstain square in the middle of his back. He also doesn't appear to have slept much the previous night. Accepting his breakfast from the barkeeper, he sits down next to Shree with his food, along with a flagon of ale. "Aye, Shael is right, 'tis never too early fo' good ale." So, of course, he has to toast Shael, which leads to him ordering more ale almost immediately.

Shael exchanges a glance with T'riss when Koravel turns around. Her normal direct self, she asks, "Koravel, how in blazes did you end up with enough blood between your shoulder blades to be that Reginald fellow? Except for the whole lack of hole through your chest thing."

Koravel starts, momentarily choking on his food. "Nothing t' concern ye, Shael. A contact I had went a little sour, as we 'ad a disagreement on a monetary issue. 'e won't be interfering wit' our mission." The way his eyes shift, and the fact that he is unwilling to look the barbarian in her eyes, makes it obvious that he is lying through his teeth. However, he sets to on the food with relish.

Shree gives Koravel a grin when he sits down and as her breakfast is all gone she pinches something off his plate with a wink.

As she listens to Shael and Koravel talk she stretches and leans back in her chair

"Well..." she says, missing how the half-elf avoids Shael's gaze "So long as you're sure. Need me to take a look at it?" she asks "I have a little knowledge, you learn a bit when your on your own all the time"

While she is leaning backwards she reaches a hand around and picks carefully at the bloodstain hoping Koravel's interest in his food will keep him from being aggressive towards her.

Azrael abruptly stands up from the table, having quickly downed his meal. "I will wait outside. When you are done, join me." And with that gruff command, the aasimar walks out the still-open door, closing it behind him none too gently.

Koravel finishes his meal and leans back in his chair with a slight wince. He watches the aasimar leave and grins. "One should not hurry through one's brekkist." Leaning back, he drinks some more ale to help quench his thirst.

Shree, feeling her healing skills are not wanted else Koravel would have said something, rises from her seat though her body language practically screams out she wants to make sure her companion is well.

"As nice as it would be to stay, I've certainly overstayed my welcome." She can feel the burning stare of Jace on her back "I'd rather not fight undead at nightfall" she sighs then buckles her longsword and scabbard to her belt. She sees her cloak up by the door, removed from the thief she knocked out last night, and takes the cloak as she leaves, still feeling the glare of Jace.

Once outside she breaths deep, points herself in the direction she wants to go, lifts up her hood and assuming the others are perfectly able to follow a single road she decides to go on a little ahead as scout, setting herself a quick step. Three steps jogging and three steps walking - a common enough march employed by most rangers wanting to move quickly while conserving energy. She knows this hike is up hill all the way and a steep hill it is too so conservation was important.

A goodly distance ahead she slows down, the marshland becoming less pronounced and the trees thicken slightly spilling mottled sunshine on the road. Shree smiles, content to be back out in the open but so alert it is doubtful something could escape her notice. As she walks her cloak seems to help her fade into the background and her steps, though they look heavy and sure footed, are so silent it could be very easy to not even know she is there.

--

Jace waits at the bar, silently praying the last three of the group will also leave without much fuss but he does give Shael an appraising look while for Koravel he gives a hate filled sneer... while he thinks the half-elf isn't looking.

Koravel follows Shree out the door and down the road, but not before walking over to the barkeeper and unsheathing his sword. "Someone wants t' say hi, Jace."

Gil'rad immediately pipes up. "May I say, sir, that you are the rudest individual I have ever had the misfortune to meet! Giving that half-elf looks like she was some food you were going to eat. Revolting, sir, simply revolting. If I were still a mage, I'd make sure that you got all the pretty ladies you wanted... I knew several nice succubi in my time."

"Give it t' 'im, comrade." Koravel grins as he buckles the sword back on, and walks out of the inn, not looking back but letting Gil'rad lambast the barkeeper on their way out.

"Yes, indeed, why they would give you just what you deserve, devour your filthy no-good, rotten, despicable, amoral soul! Good riddance, I'd say, the world could use a few less like you. And your food! We did not like your food. It was simply the worst cooking we have ever had since my soul got trapped in here, yes sir. If you're a barkeep, shouldn't you be able to cook? I thought that I was being fed out of the sewer or some such rot. Maybe that's all they serve in here, and your palate couldn't handle anything of the finer arts. Why, I used to dine at run-down slums that gave better food than this place! Back in my time, serving such rotten food would be grounds for a duel! You have insulted my palate, sir, and I never care to come--oooo! I say! Is that a twin-tailed mocking wren? They are such rarities this time of year..."

Shael and T'riss look at each other and rise. T'riss bows to the innkeep, "Your cooking was perfectly sufficient, good innkeep. Your hospitality was also fine, but as a word of advice, extend the same quality of service to everyone. Even obnoxious mercenaries and previously rambunctious customers. It will keep patrons returning and coin in your purse." She and Shael bow as one and sweep out of the inn.

Catching up with Koravel, T'riss points ahead. "She's keepin' up a good pace, but not overly fast. If we take a short run, we should catch up relatively quickly."

The three take off at a brisk jog, matching pace unfalteringly as they make their way up the hill.

Azrael and Shree are soon caught by the trio, as all three of them can run quite faster than the aasimar and the thin half-elf, and the companions brisk jog settles to a slow one, that will nevertheless chip away at the miles rather quickly.

Shree slows, and eventually comes to a halt, the rest of the company stopping as well. Koravel looked curiously at Shree. "What is it?"

"Can you hear it?" Shree closes her eyes and cocks her head to one side. "Nothing, not a sound. No wildlife, no people apart from us, _nothing_. This is definitely not natural and I for one definitely do not like it."

Opening her eyes again she drums her fingers on the hilt of her longsword and ponders as to how to proceed.

"I've been told the cemetery is down this path, never been there myself so I'm going to have as little knowledge about what we are going to find down there as you." She looks around for anyone that might want to offer some form of input "Hey I'm just a traveler, a caravan scout, nothing more than that, you guys are the 'dungeon crawling' experts." She grins.

"No...no, it's certainly not natural," mutters T'riss.

She grimaces, "Well 'dungeon-crawling' as you put it is fairly simple, in theory. We go through the crypt piece by piece, never missing a dust bunny. Sometimes we come up with something and find our mark. Sometimes he's cleverer than us and we never find him. That's all in theory, of course."

She shudders, "Sometimes dungeons are the Underdark, and everything changes."

Shael puts a hand on T'riss' shoulder wordlessly, "I for one, do not enjoy them. I'm a woman of the tundra, of open spaces. But I dislike the undead," she sneers, "far less."

Azrael had been staring out over the plain, and he shakes his head. "No, it's not natural. But it is a good sign. Our quarry is near." The aasimar descends the slope at a trot.

Shael shrugged. "Well, it is his hunt. Let's go."

--

From his perch in the trees that he had taken to observe them, the Avariel saw them heading over the hill. _"By the stars they have a death wish..."_ he thinks to himself. He raises his hand and plucks a bow out of the air, the glass-like material glowing gently, its light only casting upon its wielder as he draws the string back. An arrow materializes on the string, and with a grin, he releases it. Spreading his wings, he takes off making no sound as his soft feathered wings allow him to glide through the air and out of sight.

--  
The arrow whistled past Shael and T'riss and landed three feet ahead of the aasimar, who whirled to see what had happened. The arrow exploded with a brilliant flash that lit up the plain in front of them, enough for them to see a horde of zombies lurking about the entrance to a cemetery.

"I thought you said the cemetery was **past **the town," Azrael growled at Shree.

Shree had whipped around as soon as she heard the arrow, arming herself with her own bow, and notching an arrow of her own. She saw nothing, however, and turned to answer the aasimar when she sees the horde out on the plain. "Oh," she simply says and re-aims - letting the arrow fly straight into a lurching zombie where upon the arrow explodes into a ball of fire.

Shree looks quite upset when the zombie continues forwards... alight... and as such, slightly more dangerous than it was before. Normally she would run backwards and continue firing but the group is surrounded. Drawing out her longsword and arming her other hand with a dagger she snarls at the ring of attackers, her back to her companions.

"Anyone have a better idea than fighting our way out of this?" she asks though the tone in her voice suggests she would rather use her blade.

Azrael mutters something under his breath, and a wave of the undead fall. He strides forward into their mist, his confidence radiating off of him in waves.

Koravel looks like he is going to throw up when Azrael starts slaying the undead, but he recovered enough to take the head off of a zombie that wandered too close.

"I have an idea," Shael yells over the noise. "Follow the priest!"

Shree watches as the undead keel over.

"Meh." she shrugs and sheaths her weapons.

She is about to follow T'riss but stops to look up at where she had been sure the first arrow can come from.

"Who _are_ you?" she asks the silent outdoors, searching the trees for any signs of life.

So distracted is she by her musings she has failed to notice a stray Shadow, that escaped Azrael's prayer, sneaking up behind her.

Koravel mutters as T'riss and Shree pass him, keeping a slower pace. His back is actually rather hurt and is slowing him down considerably. Unlike the others, since he is farther back, he sees the winged creature fire an arrow at, he assumes, his comrades. When the creature immediately takes off afterwards, he shrugs his shoulders. "Coward, are ye? I'll get ya some time."

He reaches the top of the hill, and sees the mass of undead. There are quite a bit more than he expected, but, seeing as his companions are surrounded, he charges down the hill, gathering speed, and taking Gil'rad out as he does so.

"I say! Lots of roaming undead here, aren't there? Lemme at 'em, fearless leader! I have killed thousands of undead in my time, why there was this one time when I was surrounded by a hundred of the blasted things--"

"Shut up already." Koravel growls, for he has seen the shadow creeping out on Shree. He yells for her to watch out, but over the roar of battle, she doesn't seem to hear him. "Sorry, mate, I's knows 'ow much ye 'ates this..."

Whirling the sword over his head, he hurls it at the shadow. The sword passes clear though not only the shadow, which dissolved, but through another zombie behind him, and lodges in the chest of a second zombie, who falls to the ground under the weight of the sword. Koravel snaps the neck of a couple zombies that tried to get him while he was weaponless, leapt completely over another, and jerked Gil'rad out of the last zombie before decapitating it. Turning to the others, he growls, "What in t' nine 'ells are ye doing? T' number one best way t' get killed in a battle is t' not watch each other's backs. Work together!" Then, completely disregarding his own advice, he begins to cut a path to the aasimar. His sword is a blur of motion, cutting the undead into pieces, making sure they are really dead... again.

--

As Azrael begins to get closer to the cemetery, he encounters more and more undead, judging by the numbers, an army, but for what purpose?  
"Bow before your true master." A wave of light washes quickly over the undead hordes, causing some to fight for Azrael, and others to simply fight everyone, killing anything that gets too close, but the largest part remains loyal to the necromancers that had summoned them. Chaos reigns as the undead battle themselves, destroying each other, decimating the otherwise growing army.  
Azrael flies over them, and lops off the head of one of the necromancers with his scythe. The aasimar is laughing loudly as he fights.

--

T'riss and Shael fight amongst the undead. They aren't putting forth an incredible amount of strain, but they are no less deadly for it. T'riss has finally drawn her saber and she's practically dancing amongst the dead, evading their chilling touches.

Shael is more straightforward, but no less graceful as she stabs and slices her way through zombie and shadow alike. Whenever she throws her spear, she wades toward it attacking with her warhammer, switching again when reaching her spear. It's an effective technique, and she skewers several enemies that almost catch one of her comrades unawares.

Tired of the seemingly endless swath of undead, Shael takes up a war hymn, calling upon Uther to destroy the undead. T'riss picks up the chant, and between their song and blades, they gradually clear a way through the undead towards where Koravel and Shree are fighting.

Shael keeps singing, but T'riss stops singing for a moment to speak to the others, "Shall we go join Azrael at killing off some necromancers?"

--

Shree's eyes fill with shock when she first thinks Gil'rad is thrown _at_ her. As the blade passes through the Shadow Shree catches up with what is really going on and brings up an arm to protect herself from a zombie while she arms herself.

As Koravel passes she takes a moment to cast a healing spell on him when she notices his stiff movements before she too follows after Azrael, actually bothering with Koravel's advice and keeping his back clear. There is a cry of agony in a strangely familiar accent, but Shree is too focused on the undead at the moment to investigate. Her skill with a blade is phenomenal, it is almost as if she was born with a sword in hand yet there is something to suggest that she too is not fighting her hardest, nor her best.

She hears T'riss' question and looks up to see the flying black-winged aasimar with a scythe

"There's something you don't see every day" she grins, her eyes glittering with her adrenalin surge

Suddenly she sheaths her blades, making herself completely defenseless. A jade stone hanging at her neck flashes with a brilliant white light causing several Shadows to dissipate. This was not the intended spell, but a useful by-product nonetheless and Shree is gone.

A large black panther sprints out from the group, its eyes the same bright, sharp green as Shree's and focused only on the necromancers. The transfigured Shree keeps her eyes on her target, bounding over zombies, smashing through Shadows until the massive cat springs out of the throng of Zombies to hit a completely off-guard Necromancer full on the face. Her jaws sinking into his neck, her claws ripping into his flesh. Unfortunately for the necromancer, he dies in a painful fashion called 'ripped apart by savage beast while rolling back down the hill'.

--

Meanwhile, one of the necromancers quickly begins to jabber a spell at T'riss, but she sidles up to him and cuts off his pointing finger. "Ah ah ah! It's not nice to point." As the man quivers she swings her blade to finish him. Her blade slows and stops half way to him, and the necromancer grins and laughs. T'riss frowns, "Always with the shields..."

She mutters a word to her sword and the holy flames around it slick back into the sword and spring out dancing with prismatic fire. "Ah, this should do it."

This time when she cuts to kill the necromancer, who arrogantly stands and watches, expecting failure, her sword moves effortlessly, flashing brighter as it passes through the shield. The necromancer has time to curse before she sends the blade through his neck.

--

Koravel was doing just fine, smashing through the undead as if they were simply a nuisance, when Shree tries to heal him. Pain rolls through his body, a white-hot pain that makes his back feel like it is on fire. "AGH! By t' gods, woman!"

Gil'rad, of course, has to choose this moment to pipe up. "Well, ya know, it's really your fault, big guy. If you don't tell them about your... condition... then whaddya expect them to do when they see you're hurt, eh? Honestly, you are so thick-skulled sometimes, I would have thought after the debacle with the elven war party--"

Koravel snarls and hurls the blade at a necromancer, just to get Gil'rad away from him. He then channels his pain into energy, and goes at the undead with a fury, eventually fighting his way to where he threw Gil'rad, and, picking the sword up, he slays the last of the necromancers and the majority of the undead fall with him. Koravel falls to his knees, and gingerly touches his back. The skin is fried black with the energy of the heal spell. He takes a salve out of his pack, and applies it very carefully to the burn, wincing whenever he touches his flesh.

T'riss and Shael turn towards Koravel. Confusion is etched across Shael's face and curiosity across T'riss'.

T'riss walks up to Koravel. Bending down, she takes the salve from him and applies it herself with deft practiced fingers, humming a soft song of soothing that deadens the pain...Koravel's missing areas trying to salve his own back. When she's finished, she stands up.

"Well, merc...What is it? Are you cursed, undead, hmm? We've got to know at least what _will _heal you and not fry you like pig grease." She fingers a black and red wand on her belt.

Koravel grimaces as T'riss applies the salve. She can barely hear his reply, as it is hissed in a low whisper through clenched teeth. "I ran afoul of a lich a few years back. It put a curse on me that slowly killed me and turned me into an undead when it finally did so." He shakily stands to his feet, not meeting her eyes. He doesn't sheathe Gil'rad, as placing the sword across his back would be particularly painful.

T'riss rolls her eyes. "Ye should have just trusted us beforehand." She flipped the black and red wand out of her belt, and aims it at Koravel's back. A beam of red light flushes the area, and to Koravel, it feels as if cold salve was just applied.

Koravel stretches his back, and is surprised to feel almost no pain left. "I think ye even got t' knife wound. My thanks, T'riss."

Shael growls a bit, "Why you go healin' the walkin' corpse, T'riss? If 'e wants to be burnt, let 'em burn."

Disgruntled, her speech lapses a bit back and she glowers at Koravel.

T'riss whispers to Koravel "Don't push her too much on her disapproval, Kor. Her tribe was almost decimated at one point by a bunch of undead and she hasn't quite gotten over it. She'll get over it, just give her a bit. In fact, give her a good ale at some point. That seems to mend most wounds with her."

He looks sideways at Shael. "Ye'd judge me fo' what I am, instead o' who I am? Most do, but I thought maybe..." He trails off and shrugs his shoulders. Sheathing Gil'rad across his back, he turns to Azrael. "So, cleric, 'ave we taken out t' undead threat? Or is there something else behind all this?" He gestures at the battlefield.

The unnaturally large panther sits a little away, cleaning the blood off her paws and jaws. Shree's eyes widen in absolute horror as she realizes what she has done to poor Koravel and the guilt hits her like a tidal wave.

Putting on a spectacular show of remorse she wanders over to him and nuzzles one of his hands with her nose as an apology. Her sharp green eyes are begging for forgiveness. For a large black killing machine she does manage to look quite adorable as she fawns over him.

The aasimar rolls his eyes at the sight of the panther. He does hear Koravel's question, however. "It was the Zhents. I have no idea why they were building such an army, but it was them. I have contacts in Amn; I intend to go there to see if they can tell me anything about this."

Shree turns back to her normal self, the process of turning back taking far longer as claws become finger nails, snout becomes a nose and her bone structure changes from quadruped to biped.

Shaking out her hair she give Azrael a curious look

"Amn, hey?" She considers Azrael's words for a long time, mulling over the tempting location. "Well I _was_ going to Silvery Moon but... if we took a boat from Waterdeep to Baldur's gate... we could take the roads from Baldur's gate to Athkatla. Huge thieves guild there, they might have the information you need" her eyes mist over "It's been a too long since I walked Athkatla's dusty streets. And the _beaches_..."

"I'm coming too" she suddenly blurts out to Azrael, a little more desperately than she wanted to appear "Errrrr... if you don't mind that is" she grins "I know Amn, well bits of it, and Baldur's gate I've been to once before. You never know, I might be helpful"

Slowly she turns to Koravel, her eyes filled with sorrow and hurt

"I... I'm so sorry but I didn't know" she says quietly "If you'd said earlier I'd have never tried to help. Why didn't you just, I don't know, _say_ something? You trust us that little?"

"I trust everyone that little. People tend t' do things when they learn what I truly am. I'd prefer they not know. I wouldn't have told you unless someone was going t' try and heal me. No offense meant. It's just how I roll. A southern holiday sounds fun, but I understand if you'd rather not 'ave me along. It'd be like taking along a drow t' fight t' drow." He chuckles grimly. Turning back to Shree with a sudden look of concern, he assures her, "Don't blame yourself, lass. Twas my fault fo' not telling yall. Sometimes, as annoyin' as he is," he leans in close and drops his voice to a whisper, "Gil'rad is right."

"I heard that! Thank ye very much! You admitted it! So many times I've said such brilliant things, and you completely ignore me, maybe now you'll listen to me more, hmm? Why I remember one time..."

Koravel rolls his eyes. "You need a mute button, mate."

Shree chuckles as Gil'rad pipes up.

"Sometimes good advice is worth listening to." She smiles warmly.

"Why in all of Faerun wouldn't we want you along?" She seems genuinely shocked. "I'd miss you otherwise" she says with a flash of a grin and she stands on her tip-toes to ruffle hair.

Turning to Shael and T'riss she cocks her head to one side.

"And it wouldn't be the same without you two either," she adds truthfully but then looks sheepish. "Besides, I have a favor to ask. We'll have to stay in the Sleeping Dragon again tonight, else it's outside. If you two turn up then Jace _won't_ have me shot at on sight."

The aasimar heads off over the plains. "No time for that. The word of Jergal will be brought to the Zhentarim. On the winds of war. If you need to rest, you can do so in Waterdeep."

Shael grunts at Koravel, "Perfectly sentient undead destroyed my home, mercenary. Undead that once were my comrades. Give me a moment or two to try to move past that and come to the conclusion that the factors of "no longer paladin", "undead" and "sword for hire" do not add up to "turned evil when turned undead." Don't hold your breath; it might take a few minutes. Then we'll be fine."

T'riss smiles sneakily, "Actually...if you don't all mind taking a short pike, we can go somewhere else...I've got access to a Pocket Plane, call it The Kip. It wouldn't even cost you anything," she added with a wink.

Shael grins, "Aye, T'riss keeps a fine steading! Good cook too! And..." She nudges Koravel, "Good ale!"

T'riss says, "I'd have to with you visiting. You have no taste for the finer liquors. What do you say, everyone?"

Azrael merely continues on south, not even bothering to stop, though he is still within easy hearing range. T'riss sighs. "Well, how about the rest of you, then?"

Shree's eyes light up when T'riss suggests somewhere to stay that doesn't involve hiking by night and her mind is certainly made up when the subject of 'finer liquors' is touched upon

"We'll meet you at the entrance to the docks, Azrael!" She yells out at the disappearing aasimar. "Or wherever," She adds with a shrug.

"So, how does this pocket plane thing work?"

T'riss smiles, "Well...getting there is easy for me. I'm a cross-piker and can jump where I wish. I'll just take you all with me. One way trip shouldn't drain me much. When we get there, I can attune you two to some jump-stones." She holds out a hand to Shael who frowns at her.

"T'riss--"

"Shael, I can do it. I've lived for more than half of your tribe can remember, I know my limitations. Come on then." She offers her hand again. Shael takes it and gently grasps Koravel's tunic. With her other hand, T'riss holds Shree's tunic.

"Ready? Here we go."

With that they all disappear with a slight pop.

No one notices the note tied to a jump-stone that falls to the ground as they disappear.

_ I must thank you for your assistance in warning us of the ambush, whoever you might be. If you wish to come to us, I've left you an un-attuned jump stone. You can't just teleport in, but you can come a knocking. I'll know it's you._

--

As the group disappears, a slender figure lands softly, looking around at the carnage his large silvery eyes see the note left behind. He scoops the strange stone up easily and reads the note.

"In," he says, the word sending shivers down his back. He stretches out his wings subconsciously, as though suddenly feeling constricted. The Avariel did not like the thought of being underground, and indoors did not appeal to him at all. The human seer's home was at least open enough for him to be comfortable, but anything else...

He drops the stone and takes off again... he had heard something about them travelling south... Amn... three days as the great eagles flew. The wind whistles past his ears as he flies at high speed. Powerful magic that the Seer had gifted to him in the form of an amulet around his neck barred him from the sight of any but the most powerful of beings. Should any stray eyes land on him, they would not think twice about the unusual sight of an Avariel in flight.


	8. The Place That is Not a Place

**Author's Note: Well, I'm back, and the story will continue with regular updates, hopefully every three or four days. One other thing that may or may not be needed later on, there is something that is slightly AU in this story of ours, and that is Resurrection. **

**Resurrection is extremely expensive, probably the Neverwinter Nights equivalent of about a quarter of a million gold. It is also something that only the most powerful of clerics can cast. Consider it an epic spell. With that little note, here is Chapter 7.**

**--**

**Chapter 7**

**The Place That is Not a Place**

The group pops into a room that is obviously set aside for jumping into. The feeling that one gets as they enter is a tingling along one's spine. This place is in-between the planes themselves, and could truthfully be said to be nowhere at all.

As they walk out the door into the living area, a tiny creature comes barreling through the air straight for T'riss, squealing and chittering at a high pitch.

A genuine smile opens across T'riss' face, "Flit! Come here you little blighter!"  The creature whistles and dives around T'riss before settling at the base of her neck, hidden in her hair, and nuzzling against her.

It's only moments before a much larger pair of creatures comes bounding in from another room.   Much more conventional, it's two large wolfhounds.

Shael and T'riss both bend down, grinning, as the wolfhounds barrel into them, making T'riss fall on her behind.  Shael keeps her balance and lavishes attention on the dogs as they excitedly jump around her and T'riss.

T'riss rises and collects herself, and the dogs calm down.  She calmly pets one's head as she turns back to the rest of the party.

"Shree, Koravel, the dogs are Beo and Reena.  Beo's the taller one with darker fur."

A goblin female comes calmly in from an area that seems to hold shelves and shelves of books, "Welcome home, mistress, and welcome guests. Ah, Shael! It's always a pleasure," She gives a slight bow. Her speech is highly refined for a goblin, as well as her collected manner of dress and appearance. Ink stains her fingertips and there are pen calluses on them as well.

Shael grins, "Greetings from Snow Wolf, Hroli! The tribe greatly appreciated your finding of the rest of that tale!  They almost didn't believe a goblin had found it, but I convinced 'em. "She winks, "Everyone, this is Hroli!  And a finer assistant to T'riss here you've never seen. And the fine cook I talked about! And…"

"Yes, Shael, I know."  Hroli's voice is a gravelly alto, strangely calming, "A purveyor of fine ales. The usual, I assume. And for the rest of you?"

T'riss is smiling, but watching the others carefully. Too often, people don't respond well to Hroli.

It isn't Hroli that Shree responds badly to start off with, it's the wolfhounds. Granted, to her, the well-spoken goblin is an affront to nature but right now her immediate concern is the wolfhounds. She tries to hide her discomfort and forces herself not to panic but she does take a step back while her hand subconsciously moves to rest on the hilt of her blade.

"They're... ummm.... big," Shree says slowly. "And.... _wolfy,_ aren't they and OH GODS! There's a goblin in your home!" Her other hand flies for her dagger but Shael's explanation and friendliness towards the creature makes Shree look like she is about to vomit, yet she refrains from arming herself.

"I've been killing orcs, hobgoblins, goblins and trolls since I can remember," she says to Hroli. "You're the first I've met that can string a sentence together..." she notices the ink stains and the fact of the matter is this is no ordinary goblin."Old habits die hard," It's pretty clear this is about as much of an apology as she is able to give, and even this seems rather hard but at least she is polite enough to keep eye contact. The look of repulsion also vanishes and her hands drop from her weapons. She figures she'd be dead by now if Hroli was an ordinary goblin.

Koravel grins at the dogs, but they don't appear to return the sentiment. He looks slightly hurt, but shrugs it off. He doesn't appear to be affected by a goblin in T'riss' home. Turning, he stares into the kitchen behind Hroli. "I just saw somethin' move in there!"

A deep booming voice comes from behind the goblin-chef. "GREETINGS TRAVELERS! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU!"

Koravel starts at the voice. "What in t' hells?"

Hroli sighs and looks plaintively towards T'riss. T'riss smiles and "opens" the wall between them and the kitchen up, showing that there's nothing in the kitchen but common kitchen items.

A sultry husky voice whispers, loudly, just behind Koravel, "I've been waiting as well...the undead are so much more...stimulating than the living..."  A warm "breath" of air quivers up the back of Koravel's neck.

Of course, it's just Shael playing Koravel's own trick upon him and T'riss manipulating the dynamics of the Plane.

T'riss grins, "Do try not to make it more uncomfortable than is typical for people to be here, Koravel.  Otherwise the nice soft bed that awaits you might suddenly be full of stones." Despite her words, T'riss winks at the half-elf, obviously amused by his little joke. She turned to the hounds.

"Beo, Reena, go lie down out of the way."

The dogs trot off, throwing Koravel a suspicious glance and a bit of hurt at Shree. "They are rather large...but good animals," T'riss comments.

Shael smiles widely, "Aye, and amazing hunters at that! You should have seen the bear that Beo brought down a few years ago!  And Reena...Reena runs as fleet as a deer! Bringing most deer down with her! I tell you T'riss, if you came home and bred more dogs like that, then even the most conservative of the tribal members would welcome you with open arms!"

"No, Shael, they'd hate me more for bringing change upon them and claim my dogs were demon-spawn.  Besides, you know I don't have time to breed the beauties more than I do already.  I already had to give up the horse breeding when I lost the farm."

She starts, as if suddenly remembering they had company, "Excuse me, please, sit down." She gestures to the fine leather couches and chair scattered about the living area, "Hroli, would you bring us...bring us the Icewine and the good ale, would you?"

Hroli makes a slight bow, "Of course, mistress."

Hroli backs out and goes into the basement to fetch the desired refreshments.

T'riss jumps and her hand flies to her neck, "Ow, Flit! I hadn't forgotten you!"  She draws out the small creature and holds her hand out to show her to the others.

The creature is essentially a small ball of fluff with little arms and legs, big wide eyes and a small beak.  Large pointed ears stick out from the fuzz, as well as a pair of membranous wings, shaped like a bat's, but built like a bug's.

"This is Flit.  She's rather similar to my animal companion, but has many abilities that make her more of a familiar of sorts.  She's how we will find Azrael when we get to Waterdeep."

"Flit, this is Shree and Koravel." She rotates her hand so Flit knows which is which.  Flit hums up out of her hand and darts over to each of them, flying around them.

As she flies around Koravel, she stops and takes a little sniff of his face.  Giving a little sneeze, she lets out a series of clacks and whistles.

"Yes, Flit, he's not quite among the living.  You're not silly."

Flit makes an affirmative sound and flies over to Shael, perching on her head.  Shael grins, "Aye, I was wondering when the fuzz ball would come say hello."

Hroli comes in and sets down a tray with a fine glass bottle of Icewine and a diminutive keg of ale.  There is also a collection of cheeses and crackers for munching upon.

"Will you be staying for a rest, Mistress?"

T'riss nods, "Yes, Hroli. If you could make up rooms, that'd be wonderful."

Shael gently grabs Hroli's arm as she starts to leave, "Hroli, did the plants--"

Hroli smiles, a funny gap-toothed grin, "Aye, Mistress Shael, the plants have survived and borne fruit.  I've gathered them and started the process as you directed."

Shael smiles, "Wonderful! Thank you, Hroli!"

"You're welcome," the goblin replied, with another gap-toothed grin.

Hroli left, obviously heading upstairs to prepare the rooms for everyone. T'riss sits down and lounges in a chair.  A charcoal colored cat bounds up out of the shadows and settles on her lap.  She absent-mindedly pets it. "Please, everyone, sit down and relax.  As soon as your rooms are made, you're welcome to take your rest.  After wards, we'll pop in just outside of Waterdeep...Master Blackstaff was unpleased last time I just randomly ported into Waterdeep."

Koravel snaps his fingers as T'riss is not taken in for an instant. "I's suppose I shouldn't 'ave, but I's couldn't resist." He grins at Shael's attempt at duplicating his feat. "Work on it, there, lass," he says with a wink. Chuckling at Flit's query, he appears to be about to sample the wine, when T'riss mentions Blackstaff. He stiffens suddenly, and the glass stops halfway to his lips. "Khelben Blackstaff Arunsun?" he asks, seemingly carelessly, but tension is written over his features plain as can be.

T'riss cocks her head curiously.  "Yes, Khelben Blackstaff Arunsun. He's a good man, if a bit hard to fathom at times.  If it makes you unnerved with the possibility of meeting him than I doubt such will occur. Like I said, as long as we teleport in outside of Waterdeep, I doubt he'll even know we're there; he doesn't exactly watch the comings and goings of everyone in Waterdeep.  Unless of course," she winks, "You'd _like _to meet him. That can be arranged."

Shael grunts, but is deep in her cup of ale.  She sighs and murmurs something about the ale.

"Oho no. I'd prefer *not* t' meet 'im. In fact, we can go out o' our way a little, if'n it means we 'ave less o' a chance of meetin'."

He takes a deep draught of ale to calm himself.

Shree looks far happier when she realizes how well trained the wolfhounds are and she jumps out of her skin when Koravel plays his little joke

"You fiend!" she laughed. "One day I shall have pin you down and make you tell me how you did that. Not that I need an excuse..." she winks but then looks hurriedly at T'riss. "Erm, no offence... about the whole fiend thing"

She watches Flit as she sits down and her eyes light up at the mention of four-legged things that go 'neigh' but she only speaks when Khelben is mentioned.

"I agree," she nods, "Avoiding, as you called him, Master Blackstaff sounds like a _very_ good idea, so good in fact - I'm going to drink to it."

Not being an ale drinker she goes after the Icewine. "Now that's a drink to get drunk so_pissed_icatedly with," she winks after she has helped herself and sampled the wine. Finding the Icewine to be very pleasant she sits back contentedly and looks around the Kip with an eye of curiosity. "I don't know how you came by this place but it's the most useful thing I've seen in a long time. And please, call me Endellion - I never really liked my last name anyway."

"Plants?" she raises her eyebrow in curiosity towards Shael.

Shael looks up from her cup, "Aye...plants...they produce berries...I'm trying something new.  Let's just say, the end result will be a brandy with a flavor spanning a few peoples, without more than one fruit."

T'riss smiles, "We are both farmers, of a sort. I seem to have a special gift with animals, and Shael with plants. Unusual, given she's from the Northern tundras and I'm a Cager."

She sips some Icewine, "Endellion, if you wish to see the result of my horse breeding we can make a short stop outside Waterdeep at stables there. I keep a few of my remaining animals there in case I have need of one."

She gestures, "As for this place...I received it as a boon from My Lady Tymora.  I do her work often and when one of her followers died, she bequeathed his Pocket Plane to me.  Hroli was already in residence and she's a good assistant."

"A teifling with a knack for animals and a woman of the snowy wastes - a plant specialist" she shakes her head then looks up grinning "You guys sure do break every stereotype out there.  I think I can understand why you are a follower of Lady Luck herself." She chuckles. "The only goddess that has ever found favor from me is Sharess."

"A breeder you say?" Endellion nods, quite impressed. "I had a good charger once, trained her myself. Sure footed on the road, strong enough to take two and level headed in a charge. I didn't even need to feel my way into her mind to suggest what I wanted in the thick of battle, she just knew... died during an attack on some vans two years ago, werewolf attack. Never got around to finding myself another.  If we had all the time in the planes I'd jump at the chance to see the results of your hard work. As for brandy... when are you starting the distilling process?" she asks with a wicked little twinkle in her eyes and finishes her glass of Icewine.

"Mind if I have another?" she asks T'riss.

T'riss nods, "Help yourself, I've got a...provider." She looks pondersome for a moment, "I actually have a rouncy that might interest you, if you'd care to see it sometime. Swift as a sea wind and sure as a stone falls. I'll take us there; it's not far from Waterdeep. It would be wise for us all to leave with mounts anyways. Buying them in Amn would be a pain on our belt pouches."

Shael pokes T'riss, "Aye, shut your trapper, tiefling. She's asked about my brandy."

"Of course, my friend, how dare I."

"Insolent fiend.  I'm actually not positive...Hroli said she'd begun the fermentation, but she didn't specify when. If she's still fermenting it, then likely it wasn't started long ago and it'll only be a few more days. The long part is, of course, aging it." She gets a wicked glimmer in her eyes, "although I think I found a way to speed the process...but shhh." She puts a finger to her lips, "I can't be telling."

Endellion pours herself another glass of the Icewine.

"Thank you," she says to T'riss before grinning at Shael.

"You'll let me know when you first crack open a bottle, right?" She puts on her best smile. "I have a weak spot for life's... finer pleasures shall we say, and brandy is something I count as a fine pleasure. Same goes for this Icewine actually, along with other things," her sharp-green eyes drift towards Koravel for the briefest of seconds before she turns her attention back to T'riss.   

"We still need to get to Baldur's Gate if Azrael is right about the other Zhents but we needn't take to the high seas to get there. We could take the Trade Way all the way along the coast, hells of a ride mind and there aren't too many places to stop." She sits back again. "A few good horses would certainly make travel an awful lot faster and if your rouncy isn't afraid of arrows flying between its ears or a blade swung round its hindquarters then you might have an interested buyer." She smiles. "It's been a while since I've had the added bonus of having six legs rather than two."

T'riss grins wickedly, "Sharess does seem to suit you...and don't worry, all my chargers are broke to such things as part of their training.  I was more thinking we could take the animals on the boats to Amn."

Endellion blinks. "_That_ well trained? I am most intrigued." She puts down her glass and rubs her hands together "My prayers have been answered and I didn't even know I'd made those prayers in the first place!"

She picks up the glass again. "My tendency to follow the Dancing Lady..." she matches T'riss' wicked grin "You don't know the half of it. Or want to know," she adds with a mirth filled laugh. "I must admit, unlike Sharess, I don't have the ability to simply leave one 'pleasure' and go to the next. Once I find something I like, I stick with it and don't get bored. For that reason alone I do not truly consider myself a member of her faith. I simply agree with a few things and revel in them in their entirety."

She takes a few more sips of the Icewine. "Hmmm... this stuff is rather good."   

T'riss grins smugly, "My provider is very skilled. And generous."

Shael laughs, "Only because you--"

T'riss slaps Shael's leg. "Hush, you!"  She's grinning, though. Even if it seems she doesn't want the nature of her barter with the provider revealed, it's obviously nothing dire.

Koravel grins. "Never 'ave found a horse that likes me. Don't know what it could be..."

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Never did like staying' in one place fo' too long. When can we go?"

Shael pokes at him, "That's because you're a dead 'un, silly half elf.  They smell you and they get confused and scared.  After all, most undead try to eat them. And there's the whole 'unnatural' business of your existence that scares them. No offense meant, of course. Just given' you the reason."

She reclines back in her chair, "And we will leave after we've rested. I don't know if you have to sleep, but we do and traveling is not wise to do without it. That and it's not daylight back in Waterdeep yet."

Shael pushes off her chair and rises. "Speaking of which, I'm turning in."  She whistles a little tune and Beo comes trotting into the room and up the stairs with her.

T'riss nods her head towards Shael, "She's right on all accounts. I myself need to rest, particularly in order to jump us all to the stables. In the morning, I'll attune you two to some jump-stones, and we'll be off."  She stands, the cat bouncing off her lap, and makes a little shooing motion, "Off with you two. Whether you need to sleep or no, I need to and I don't like leaving guests unattended. It's rude, for one, and makes me nervous for another."

She waves her hand and all the doors disappear, leaving bare wall and no way to travel through them.  The only way left is up through the stairs. "I won't close off your rooms, of course, nor force you to stay upstairs if you really just can't sleep. But I would prefer it if you stayed in your rooms tonight. I will know if you leave, and I'll likely know your actions if you move about much."

The cat looks uncommonly intelligently at them and then curls up in the chair where T'riss was sitting.

She shoos them up the stairs, "Endellion, your room is at the end of the hall to the left; Koravel, yours is to the right. I've left them 'blank' for you. If you wish to adjust some of the basic appearances to your suiting, go ahead. You can't do much, but basic adornments are up to you. It's a courtesy I extend. Goodnight."

She leans against a doorway, obviously not intending to move until the others do.  Reena sits patiently at her feet.

Endellion rises from her seat

"Meh," she shrugs, looking directly at Koravel. "Undead or not... makes no difference to me, you're still the same guy I spoke to when we first met."

Endellion certainly isn't tired but does as she's told insofar as she allows herself to be shooed upstairs. She keeps checking where the wolfhound is just in case it decides it's really a werewolf, even though its mind gives no such impression.

"No sneaking into each other's rooms then? For shame." she smiles seductively at Koravel and ambles off to her room. Opening the door she catches his eye again. "You know where to look if you need me." she winks before slipping off into the room.

Koravel glared at Shael's back. "It be called sarcasm, witless one. Ya dun need t' remind me o' what I am."

He drains another glass of ale on his way up, and winks at Shree. "Dun tempt me, lassy." Slipping into his room, he calls out, "Night, ladies." Shutting the door behind him, he flops onto the bed. "Tis nice t' 'ave some friends in this gods-forsaken world," he mutters, before drifting off to sleep.

Endellion chuckles to herself while she wanders over to a large table at Koravel's reply. Hearing someone shout out she replies with her own. "G'night!"

Not feeling sleepy just yet Endellion removes her longsword and the where-with-all to clean the blade. Working with oil and a dirty rag she goes about getting rid of all the zombie grime.

As soon as she is finished she removes her armor and crawls into bed, which has suddenly become a glorious double four poster bed with thick duck feather quilts. It seems the half-elf has a liking for green.

Endellion grins, she may be a wandering sword-arm but she _does_ have a soft spot for life's finer things when she has a chance. She fluffs up the pillows and sprawls across the middle of the bed while taking up as much room as possible.

"This is the life." She sighs contentedly as she falls asleep in the most comfortable bed she has slept in for a good long while.

****************

Endellion partly wakes up and rolls over reaching out for something or someone that isn't there. She opens her eyes and groans when she realizes what she hoped was there, was merely a dream.

Once fully awake she gets up and washes in a bowl of clean water, brushes her hair and starts to clean and repair her armor. Needles for leather-work, files, threads, leather patches, new bits of shaped metal for replacement purposes and cleaning stuffs are emptied out of a small bottomless bag she has untied from her belt. She litters the floor and Endellion works away, assuming someone will come and tell her when it's time to leave.

Koravel is up early. He stacked all the furniture on the largest bed he could think of, and does his normal workout routine. Buckling on his armor, and strapping Gil'rad around his back, he runs down the stairs to the kitchen. Hoping T'riss doesn't mind, he cooks up a lot of meat, making it so rare that most people would find it utterly disgusting, that he finds in the cupboard, and proceeds to mix it with some spice and olive oil. Taking the platter out to where they stayed last night, he proceeds to have breakfast.

"Too bad ye cannae 'ave some, Gil'rad. This stuff is good. Tastes like dragon, but I's nae sure. Been one hell o' a long time since I've had some good dragon."

The sword merely humphs in annoyance.

Breaking the last thread with her teeth Endellion pulls at her stitching to make sure it's secure and admires her handiwork. Putting the armor back on she smoothes it over her hips, sorts out her hair and, now getting the hang of the room, conjures up a full length mirror. Checking the alterations to her armor she breaths in and...

"Food?" She licks her lips with a smile and runs out of the room.

Downstairs, two hands hold onto the door frame into the living area and Endellion looks round the corner, gracing Koravel with a smile.

"You cook too?" The look she gives him is one of approval. "I _am_ impressed and it smells good." She grins and walks in, petting the cat as she moves past. "A little pepper makes it all the better."

T'riss and Shael come down stairs together, sniffing the air.

Shael wonders, "Who cooked the dra--uh oh."

T'riss grimaces, "Oh now you've gone and done it, Kora--"

The little goblin comes in, anger etched across her face, "WHO'S BEEN IN MY KITCHEN!!!"

She quickly narrows down on Koravel, "Insolent little half-elf!" She grabs his ear and drags him into the kitchen, "Just couldn't wait for ol' Hroli to wake up... Look! Look at this mess you made!"  There are dirty dishes, spices left out and even the meat cupboard isn't quite shut, "You clean this up right now and not another bit of food until you do so!"

All the doors of cabinets and cupboard containing food disappear, making them inaccessible. The kitchen door disappears behind her and she stands waiting and watching.  She may just be one little goblin madam, and it may be T'riss' home, but the kitchen is obviously her domain. She knows it, and her angry scowl is lined with confidence and surety.  Koravel will not be getting out of his dishes.

Back outside, Shael and T'riss have sat down, laughing.  They take a few pieces of meat of the platter.  It is well made and good meat to begin with, and to let it go to waste would be a travesty.

T'riss shakes her head, "Part of me thinks I should have warned him...the other is laughing too hard."

Shael bites into a piece of the dragon meat, "At least he had the decency to grab your good meat."

"Yes, but now I'll go have to kill another dragon. This was the last of it."

"Well, there was a group of white bothering Snow Wolf a few years ago. Maybe some of them are still around."

"We'll do it later."

T'riss turns to Endellion, "We should be able to leave once we've all broken our fast. And Koravel's done with the dishes. I like the armor, by the way."

Endellion tries hard not to laugh at the mess Koravel has got himself into and covers her mouth with a hand to hide the mirth on her lips, though her eyes betray her internal fits of giggles.

Listening carefully to T'riss and Shael she merely raises an eyebrow at the duo casually discussing killing dragons but she says nothing more as she has little interest in telling of her own exploits - she is no bard and can never do the stories justice anyway.

Endellion smiles. "My amour changes depending on my mood and alterations are frequent. When I heard we were riding, I thought to change certain parts for leather and others for metal," she seems unwilling to tell what the exactly composition of the metal is, "The _last_ thing I want is a sore arse after a few days travel. That and I thought I needed a little more 'umph' in the bosom department, Shael made me feel.... inadequate," she laughs with a wink of good humor. "Nah, riding and 'support' go hand in hand, that's the true reason."

She casually sits down and stretches.

"Thank you," she says to T'riss. "For being so hospitable and saving me the embarrassment of crawling back to Jace again."

Shael grins, "Bach, T'riss is so free and easy about harboring people here you'd wonder why she bothers warding it."

T'riss makes to hit Shael, but doesn't, "That reminds me, we need to attune you to a jump-stone...we'll do it right before we leave. Shael, don't let me forget."

"Like you will...Are we leaving soon? I didn't put on my armor."

"Well that was foolish of you. Yes, we're leaving soon, go get it on."

Shael gets up to put her armor upstairs.  She sticks her head back downstairs for a moment, "Is there anything else you need up here?"

"Grab my packs. They're already done."

T'riss muses to herself, "Hmm, I'll have to stop into the study too and grab one of my books. It's useful concerning the Undead."

She shakes herself, "Look at me, talking to myself when I have a guest! So tell me, Endellion, what's your favorite ride of a horse?  I don't have a wide selection anymore, but I'm sure I'll have something to your preferences."

Endellion, who has been playing with the cat, letting the little black creature chase after a bit of thread she had found, looks up at T'riss.

"Something agile, strong, light and dependable? Roughly fourteen hands,  say... four years of age, used to bare-back riding, enjoys biting people it doesn't know and isn't afraid of a little combat. Mare rather than stallion." She smiles but shakes her head. "I jest. I'll be happy with anything be it a rouncey or some old nag. In a perfect world a courser, like I just described, would go down a treat but this is _not_ a perfect world."

She stops playing with the cat and sits back, rubbing her temples. "It's Koravel I'm worried about to be honest. I'm fairly sure so long as the horse he rides is relatively close to me I can keep it subdued enough to let our undead half-elf ride it. But without someone it knows to verify my claim that Koravel is perfectly safe... once I lose contact with the creature's mind that horse is going to bolt and take our half-elf with it. And I don't fancy having to drag him out of a large pond, or whatever it happens to bolt into."

She gives T'riss a curious look. "You said you had an affinity with animals and as a breeder, you'll know your foals and hence your horses. Could you, I don't know, reinforce Koravel's.... what's the word.... safeness? Once that thought is there I have something a little more stable to work with and it won't be anywhere near as much of a headache. That is, unless you've far better skills than I give you credit for, if that's the case, then I apologize immediately."

T'riss nods, "I could easily do such a thing. I definitely believe that between the two of us, we could convince any of my animals to long-term accept him. We might have to reinforce it after any encounters with undead, but besides that, there should be little problem."

She closes her eyes and seems to run down a list in her mind, "I've never bred for anything less than 15 hands tall; there's not much call for less.  Certainly anything smaller than that cannot carry an armored man."  She opens her eyes, smiling, "Oh I have just the mare!  She's a bit on the older side, around 10, but all the wiser for it."

She puts on a smug little grin, "You'll find my animals are more...intelligent and thoughtful creatures than most.  And this mare's a canny beast. You'll love her, I know it."

Shael comes down the stairs, "Talkin' horse flesh, are you?  You still have my beast down there?"

T'riss rolls her eyes, "Yes, Fafnir is still there, and well. What until you see this thing, Endellion. Just wait."

Shael grins, "And who are you going to take, T'riss?"

"I don't know yet. Depends on which of the horses is in the best condition and which takes the most shine to Koravel. I'd take Ceri, but she's due to foal this year."

"You're breeding her again? That's, what, her fifth?"

T'riss shrugs, "She breeds true and well.  And she seems to enjoy it.  All of it." T'riss rolls her eyes.

Shael laughs, "That's what you get for naming her such!"

"Don't remind me. Wonder what's taking our Koravel so long. He couldn't have dirtied that many dishes."

Koravel is surprised, and not in the least pleased, by Hroli taking offense to his cooking preparations. "Taint that much, li'l goblin. We 'ave a quest t' go on. I'm a cook, not a servant. Now let me oot o' 'ere before I really dirty this place up. You nay wanna see 'ow dirty an undead can make somethin' if 'e tries." He stands looking expectedly at the goblin chef.

The cat seems to sense something might be 'going down' in Hroli's domain and Endellion picks up on the vibes from the moggie. She turns to where the door had been.

"Something tells me all's not well in paradise." She chuckles. "Would you let me in there, T'riss? Koravel _was_ sweet enough to cook, least I can do is wash up."

Hroli crosses her arms.  The floor shifts up and holds Koravel's feet in place. "Condescend elsewhere, lil' half elf. If you can cook, you can clean. It's rude to make a mess in your host's home. It's rude to invade their cook's kitchen, where everything has a very specific place. Wash. Now."  The floor shifts under Koravel to put him next to the sink, "Wash!"

T'riss walks over and knocks on the wall, "Koravel, just do the bloody dishes.  It's not like she's asking you to slave labor over the whole kitchen. Shael did the same thing her first night here, but made twice the mess."

Shael shouts through the wall, "Aye, but I had a much better sense of humor about it. Come on, Koravel, where's your sense of humor?"

T'riss mutters quiet enough it can't travel through the wall to Endellion, "No, you cannot go do the dishes for him.  I like Koravel, but if every time we go somewhere he pisses someone off, it's going to make travel very difficult. Let him learn a small lesson."

Endellion looks ready to hurl abuse but something sparks in her mind and she realizes that she has just got out of having to do the washing up. She raises her hands in surrender.

"I yield to the wiser of us," she grinned.

Koravel snarls something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like he wishes he had cooked goblin ka-bob for breakfast.

Gil'rad pipes up, from where he is slung across Koravel's back. "This is entirely unnecessary, Master Kor, just do what she asks, and you would've been done by now. I must apologize for his unseemly behavior, Mistress Chef--"

It is at that point that Koravel turns around so that Gil'rad can see the chef. "I say! A goblin! Back away, you horrid creature-- o dear. That's the chef?" Koravel snarls something unintelligible. "A goblin chef, eh? Well... you are to be congratulated on breaking out of the general mold of your species. Unlike demons! Demons are exceptionally nasty creatures."

Gil'rad is cut off by Koravel. "Very well, then, lil' goblin. You had best hope you and I do not meet outside of this plane." He turns to the sink, and cleans up exactly what he has messed up, and not a thing more. "Now can I go?"

Hroli nods, and waves her hand at the half-elf. Koravel gave out a startled yell as he was suddenly transported out of the plane.

Meanwhile Endellion has politely excused herself from T'riss and Shael's company to pack away her things. She takes a long while, making sure her scars and the missing ear-tip are covered up then makes her way back down stairs. She senses from the kitty that things may have taken a turn for the worse in Hroli's kitchen and when the cat hisses at the wall. Endellion begins to look a little edgy.

"Do you think he's done those dishes yet?" She asks T'riss quietly. "Only, we do need to get moving."

Hroli leaned over against the kitchen wall. "I sent the insolent half-elf ahead, Mistress. He can take a hike to get to your farm; mayhap it will teach him some manners."

T'riss nodded, and motioned for Endellion to follow her. The teifling headed downstairs and into a wide room.

As Endellion comes down the stairs, after her T'riss ushers her into the teleportation room and hands her a simple stone with an intricate sigil on it.  She presses the sigil to Endellion's forehead and mutters in a tongue that sounds like an odd mishmash between Abyssal, Dragon and Dwarvish, "Be Welcome in my home."  The Sigil blazes against Endellion's forehead and creates a very slight tingling sensation that quickly goes away.

"You'll only be able to use it a few times before the enchantment wears off, then we'll have to get you another."

Shael comes into the room, "Are we ready to go?"

T'riss nods. "Let us be off. Koravel has been sent ahead by Hroli, after their… disagreement."

"Now, shall we go get some horses?" She gently pulls Endellion fully on to the portal etched onto the floor, and Shael steps on. In the same mishmash tongue as before, T'riss says, "To the farm, please."

Endellion offers no resistance but she does turn back towards the kitchen.

"But...but, but, Kor-!" But the small half-elf is cut off as the teleport activates.


	9. Complications

**Author's Note: I can see by the reader traffic that there are far more than two people reading this story. I would ask that if you take the time to read it, that you review it. You can call it the worst story you've ever heard, (but if you do so, please include why), or that it seems divinely inspired, I don't mind at all, but the least people can do is drop a line saying if they enjoyed it or not.**

**Along those lines, many thanks to BronxWench and eatchickenlove34 for their reviews, though by the time I post this, eatchicken may have changed his nick again. :P**

**Enjoy the chapter.**

**--**

**Complications**

The light is shining brightly in the Church of Lathandar as Azrael steps inside. At the altar near the front of the church stands a man, most likely a human. He wears bright orange robes and is praying. Azrael stands behind him for several minutes before he turns around. The man lets out a startled gasp. "Why in the nine hells...... Azrael, why do you have to wear that mask constantly, and why do you keep sneaking up on me?"

Azrael takes off the mask and hangs it in his belt, ignoring the man's question. "You have information I need."

The priest looks confused for a moment before becoming deadly serious. "I have left that life behind. Why do you feel the need to dig up the past?"

Azrael takes the scroll he had recovered from the body of one of the necromancers and hands it to the man.

"What is this?" The priest reads the scroll and his expression slowly changes. By the time he is finished, and raises his head to look at the aasimar again, he is very worried. "They are responsible for the undead? And let me guess. You want me to find this ship, do you not?"

Azrael merely nods.

The priest stands for several minutes, lost in thought, before finally looking up. "I will do it. They must be stopped. You can count on me coming with you as well. At the very least you will need my assistance to get safe passage to Amn. The roads are far too dangerous in these times."

Azrael thinks for a while before answering. "Very well, go find the information we need, I will wait here for your return."

The priest hurriedly writes a letter and leaves it on the altar, before heading out the door.

The aasimar sits down on a nearby bench and waits for his return.

***************************

T'riss, Shael, and Endellion appear on the road outside the farm. It's a large horse facility, well cared for and immaculate with horses being led about, wheel barrows being pushed and in the distance it's possible to see an arena full of horses being trained. A halfing stable-hand jumps a bit as they appear, but then grins broadly when he sees T'riss.

"My Lady Halidor! Welcome back! How can we help you?"

She grins, "Master Boido! It's wonderful to see you, how is the family?"

"Wonderful, Madam! Thank you for asking! Did you wish to check on Ceri? She's about a month or so from foaling."

"Yes, of course, but I'd also like to see my coursers. Are they still stabled in the far barn?"

"Yes, madam, would you like me to escort you?"

T'riss laughs, "No, Boido, please continue your duties, I'd hate to set you behind schedule."

Boido continues his way, whistling merrily. T'riss turns to the others.

"I've used this facility at least somewhat for a long time. Let's just say, longer than the present owner has been alive. I first came here when his grandfather owned it, so I'm well known and my animals are well cared for. Shall we?"

She walks towards the back of the facility, nodding and greeting people as she goes.

They reach a large stable in the back, and T'riss gives a little whistle. It seems all the horses nicker, but one mare, greatly in foal, comes racing out of her stall into the attached paddock, neighing like mad.

She's a beautiful courser. Her mane is black and soft and her body a shining true bay. Not a marking on her and she's built as well as a horse can be built. A glimmer of intelligence lights the large dark eyes set prettily on her large but refined head.

T'riss smiles and jumps over the fence, earning an affectionate headbutt from the mare, "How's my Ceri??? Sorry I haven't been here. Yes, I know you're due to foal. I'll make sure I'm here in time. Go back to sleep." She gives the animal a slap on the rump and the mare squeals and bucks as she runs back into her stall.

"That was Ceri." She smiles affectionately. Shael clears her throat, and T'riss jumps a bit. "Yes, the rest of the horses. Endellion, come with me. Shael, I think Fafnir is waiting for you."

She points to a distant pasture, and sure enough, the shadow of a large horse stands impatiently by a gate. Shael grins, "Aye, I'll get him ready and meet you all here." She goes off to fetch her horse.

T'riss leads Endellion into the barn. It's not a quick walk, as all the horses are bobbing their heads in the aisle. T'riss spends a few moments and a carrot for each animal. Through the bars of the stalls, it's easy to see she has a large variety of horses, from the delicate desert horses of Calishman to heavy built destriers of Cormyr. All of them are amazing specimens. A constant between them all is a shining in their eyes that shows a deeper nature.

After greeting each of the animals, she returns to a mare placed along the middle of the aisle. T'riss pulls out the halter on the stall and the mare begins to prance. T'riss slips it over her head and the animal takes a good natured swipe at her with her teeth. T'riss raps the animal on the nose, "Ah Ah! Be polite!"

The mare hangs her head in mock shame and leads out without trouble. Once she's in the aisle she whirls and dances around T'riss. Her action is animated and sure as she brings her hooves within millimeters of T'riss' feet on multiple occasions. T'riss indulges her patiently and then gives a sharp couple jerks on the lead chain. The mare stops moving instantly and T'riss drops the lead, "Stay. Present."

The Mare moves so that she's displayed the best and stands without fidgeting more than her head.

"Well, what do you think?"

The Mare is about 15 hands all and an interesting contrast to Endellion. Where Endellion is fair, this mare is dark chocolate body with a flaxen mane and tail similar in shade to Endellion's hair. Her tail has been trimmed to keep it above the ground when the mare moves, but at the moment it drags a bit on the ground and her mane flows almost impossibly long. A properly arching neck attaches to strong sloping shoulders and a wither high enough to hold in a rider but not cause discomfort or saddling problems. Her back is broad and strong and almost couch like due to the slight excess fat on the mare. Her legs are straight and sure with round dish like feet.

All of that is a shadow to the character of her pretty head. She cocks it at Endellion and puts on an adorably cute face, drawing her in.

T'riss says nothing and lets Endellion be drawn toward the mare. She doesn't speak a word of warning that it's a trap, if good-natured. If Endellion wants a horse with a bit of bite, then that's what she'll get.

*******************

High in the skies, Eilsar the Avariel soars above the lands. Waterdeep is far below him and he allows himself to watch the ground leisurely, the dark stone that is the city took up a great deal of the landscape and Eilsar's attention is taken to the brighter fields that surrounded it. He looks down at the large stable complex bellow him and instantly recognizes three of the group he had been trailing, in particular the Tiefling woman he had been contracted to find and, if necessary, aid.

He slows in the air and alters his course, now plummeting very quickly, like a hawk having found its prey, his wings fold in tightly around his body as he becomes more streamlined, the wind roaring past his ears as the ground comes closer, he opens his large wings at the last moment, slowing his momentum as he pulls up to skim the tops of nearby trees before landing quietly within their midst.

Now was not the moment to be fully showing himself...

*****************

Endellion tries desperately not to look impressed, but fails miserably.

"A fine animal, with a bit of spirit... I must say you have quite the horse there," she says quietly and flicks an eye over the beast.

What she is thinking is impossible to tell but there is a hint of deep sadness and regret in her eyes. She delves into her pocket and brings out an apple but makes no move towards the horse. Instead she opens her hand, palm flat and waits for the mare to come closer of her own will. At no point does Endellion even hint she can easily read the horse's mind if she so wishes.

The mare approaches and manages a wonderful show of daintily taking the apple. Endellion loses concentration on the mare and turns to T'riss, letting the horse continue to take chunks out of the fruit.

"Does she have a name?" she asks, just as the mare is about to go for her fingers.

Endellion is a second quicker than the mare, twisting her hand upwards and pressing it flat across the mare's soft muzzle. As the mare tries to twist to get at Endellion's hand she mimics the horse's movement so she can keep her fingers.

Endellion chuckles as the mare's ears flatten back and she snorts in frustration, finally giving up.

"I almost missed that," she grins, her attention fully on the mare again. She takes a step backwards and fall flat on her bottom as the horse has quite deliberately trod on the hem of her cloak. Endellion glares up as the mare lowers her head, it is almost as if she is chuckling at Endellion's stupidity but she does get off the cloak.

"You're good," Endellion grins, suddenly grabbing hold of the horse's mane with one hand and using her powerful thigh muscles to leap off the floor onto the mare's back.

For a brief second Endellion touches the mare's mind, enough to let the mare know who is boss, to a certain extent. Surprised to see the mare hasn't decided to bolt off down the stable aisle Endellion pats her neck.

"Oh you _are_ very good," she says while leaning forwards to scratch the mare's ear and then looks down at T'riss. "What was I saying? Oh yeah, her name-" Endellion doesn't say much else as the mare bolts off out of the stables with Endellion shouting out something along the lines of "WOOHOO!!!" while grabbing the lead rope to prevent injury.

A few moments later and the duo return, the mare seemingly more placid and Endellion grinning like a small child.

"I want one," she grins and gently pushes away the mare's muzzle as she tries once again to playfully bite the half-elf. "There's no need for a saddle or bridle for this girl, she's as sensitive as a babe, more intuitive than any horse I've even seen or ridden and as feisty as a cat in a bag. As for falling off, no chance. It's just like sitting on a table."

Getting off the mare she keeps a loose hold of the lead rope while the mare goes sniffing around Endellion's belt for the pouch that holds apples.

"You keep your nose out of there" Endellion scolds, using the lead rein to bring the mare's head back up, though not unkindly. "You'll get fat! Just think how unsightly that would look if you were flying down a hill towards a foe. Bandits are not going to be scared of a fat courser, if anything, they'll laugh." Endellion is amazed at how little she needs to rely on her ranger instinct to have the mare understand perfectly.

The mare shakes her head and snorts, batting at Endellion's shoulder.

"No, not even one," she says, rolling her eyes.

T'riss is smiling broadly, "I've always called her Impi, but that's not her 'real' name. I don't give my horses more than pet names because names are very personal things and I like the purchaser to have free rein to name the animal. I am glad you enjoy her though, name her well."

T'riss bends over and collects the pile of tack she has on the ground, "I would advise this tack at least, though, Endellion. It's a good fighting saddle to keep you in and a hackamore. She's a good girl, but during the heat of battle she'll sometimes be too concerned with the enemies around you to be intuitively listening to you. And both a saddle and bridle are good to have for other reasons. I was once pulled out of a pond by Ceri when the ice broke under me. Mare had the sense to drop her reins into the water." She jerks a thumb at Ceri, who bobs her head. "Plus, you'll need somewhere to hang your packs."

T'riss sets the tack near Endellion, "It's up to you, but I speak from experience that you should have them. If you'd like it, there's also barding in the room there, there's one labeled that's hers." She points to a room off to the side.

She walks over to another stall and pulls out a large grulla courser. The coloration of the stallion and T'riss is eeringly similar, although the stallion has dark eyes to her blue ones. The stallion is around 16 hands tall and well built in a defined way. He's obviously powerful and looks as if he could easily take T'riss down without effort.

As they pass Ceri's stall, the mare tosses her head and nips coyingly at the stud. The Stallion's ears prick forward, and he arches his neck and prances. T'riss admires her stallion's prancing for a moment and then jiggles the lead. He snorts and walks forward again, complacent if not calm.

"This is Liridon, one of my best coursers. He's, of course, mine to ride this excursion." She rubs him down, not needing to actually groom him due to his immaculate care and fastidious habits. T'riss quickly saddles and bridles him, attaching the saddle bags to the various straps and buckles about the saddle, tucking a set of barding into a saddle bag.

Liridon's eyes begin to glimmer as he sense they're about to go out on a trip. He eyes Impi and seems to smile to himself and jumps a bit when T'riss slaps him on the haunches, "You lecher, no wonder you and Ceri get along so well. Behave. Besides, Fafnir is coming." The horse sighs and contended nips a carrot from the bag at T'riss' feet and munches on it.

T'riss flips the reins over Liridon's neck and vaults into the saddle. "Shael should be waiting at the gate for us. We can leave whenever you two are ready. Oh wait." She turned and scanned the horizon. "I forgot about Koravel. I wonder which way he would be coming from."

Endellion looks _really_ unhappy with taking the tack but upon seeing a hackamore rather than a bridle she suddenly relaxes. When she hears about the armor her eyes glitter and she quickly ties Impi up with a slip-knot

"Wake me up, I must be dreaming," she grins as she fetches the barding; coming back with a heap of chain mail so light looking it must be mythril.

Impi looks up and whinnies in anticipation as Endellion gets the croupiere and the paytral on before fitting the saddle.

"A name? I'll think of something eventually." She smiles. "That's if you're selling" she adds with a wink.

As soon as the hackamore is on she ties the reins up in a knot and slips off the lead-chain. She nods to T'riss' incredibly impressive steed.

"He'll sire a looker," she winks and turns to Impi. "Come on, you," she says affectionately and walks out of the stables with the mare happily following... though she does take a pot-shot at Liridon with her tail.

T'riss rides out, ducking so she doesn't hit her head, "I'm not selling at the moment, she's a good mare and I'd like to breed her at least once before I sell her, but you can certainly borrow her and we can reevaluate at the end. Besides," she good-naturedly slaps Liridon's neck, "If there's ever a night we don't tie them up far enough from each other, I doubt the lack of breeding will become an issue."

There's a rumbling in the ground and Shael comes cantering up to them. Her horse, Fafnir, is a gigantic bulky horse, almost draft-like in size, although as graceful as either of T'riss' horses. He's shaggy as a pony with dark chestnut hair and socks on all four feet. A wide blaze goes down his face and Shael's grinning as he prances, "Took you two long enough! We're both ready to go."

Unlike their horses, Fafnir has a curb on his bridle. While he seems intelligent enough, he obviously has not had the caliber of training as Impi or Liridon, nor does Shael have the ability to touch his mind. Still, it's obvious that Shael doesn't use the curb much and it's mostly for use in extreme circumstances.

Shael rests her hands on her saddle horn, "Are we going to wait for Koravel?"

T'riss sighs, "Well...if he does show he will need an animal...One moment." T'riss dismounts. "Stay, Liri."

Liridon obediently stays while T'riss runs inside. In the shadows of the barn, one can see her tacking up a moderately sized rouncey. She leads him out into the light and it's obvious that even if the horse isn't a courser, he's a magnificent animal.

Snow white with a large black splotch across a hindquarter, he's covered in finely toned muscle and his eyes blaze with fire. He appears to have a great deal of Desert blood in him, carrying his tail and head high.

T'riss comes near the others, "I figured I'd give Kor Jareb here. Jareb doesn't really care about who rides him, but if Koravel doesn't treat him right, Jareb won't put up with him."

T'riss quickly touches the minds of her animals, which get tense as Koravel nears them. They don't calm down, but they don't react either. Liridon watches Koravel approach warily and shifts his weight on his hooves.

When the half-elf gets close enough, the rest of the group can hear a pretty loud argument going on between him and Gil'rad.

"I bloody tol' you, you freaking magician, that t' farm was SOUTH from the crossroads. But oh no, you 'as t' make us go a mile out of our way jus' because you say you 'as a 'magical compass.' Gah. More like you saw some rare species o' animal you wanted t' check out, but knew I wouldn't take you that way."

"What are you on about, ya big oaf? If you hadn't gone off on that chef, we wouldn't have had to be finding our way in the first place. And besides, it was a very rare animal—"

"I BLOODY KNEW IT! That is t' last time I listen t' a talking sword. In fact, I really shouldn't listen to a bloody sword in t' first place. I mus' be losing my mind. Magical compass, by the hells. I ought t' stick ya in a chunk of earth and leave you there."

"Hmph. And where would you be without me, eh? What, you'd swing around that bloody dagger? Ah, listen to me; I'm beginning to sound like you, you savage."

"Ach no, I have a better idea. I'll stick you in the nearest portal to the 'ells."

Gil'rad abruptly goes silent, then, "Carry on, my good man. Er… half-elf."

Koravel snorted, drawing up to the stables. "Where's the horse?"

As soon as Endellion see's Koravel she grins.

"As you wish," she says, replying to T'riss, and her eyes gloss over slightly as if she isn't all there.

She gently touches their steeds minds, soothing worries, smoothing over fears and calming them. She stops as soon as she gets them to the point where they would even be willing to let Koravel touch them. (In her circle of close friends she had been accused of being able to calm a frightened deer to the point of it letting her eat it - this of course was rubbish, but Endellion liked the reputation nonetheless.) Jareb being younger is far more easily influenced.

"Hopefully that will help," she says her green eyes becoming sharp once again. "Jareb should be just fine letting Koravel ride him."

Without warning the half-elf suddenly runs out to Koravel and the much shorter half-elf has to leap up and, not sure if he's going to catch her or not, she wraps her legs around him to give him a hug.

Koravel hugs her back with a smile. "Goodness, so happy to see me?"

"Good to have you back," she smiles and looks over his shoulder. "And hello to you too, Gil'rad," she chuckles. She then lowers her voice and whispers in Koravel's ear, "T'riss isn't happy... be nice, okay?" and lets herself drop to the ground with a wink of 'good-luck.' As she does so, Koravel leans forward and plants a kiss on her cheek. She gives him a saucy smile, but says nothing, before sauntering off to Impi and mounting her steed.

Impi, impatient and wanting to get moving does a few tight turns but stops when Endellion mentally reassures her. At no point does Endellion go for the reins.

Koravel looks extremely nervous as he approaches the horses. "T' last time I was on one o' these things, it threw me over twenty feet. Are ye sure 'e's goin' t' let me on 'im?" Koravel looks as if he only needs an excuse to run the opposite direction.

T'riss nods curtly, "Jareb was chosen because he's young and just likes to be ridden. Now that Endellion and I have calmed him, he'll be fine. Unless you mistreat him, then he'll throw you. Also, if we have any encounters with undead involving the horses, give Endellion and I a moment to reassure him that you're not one of the creatures who were just attacking him. Eventually he won't need such. I'm hoping we don't encounter dead that often."

Endellion, who had used getting on Impi as a way to hide her initial shock from the unexpected kiss, has shifted so she is sitting cross legged in the saddle after she has put away the stirrups for Impi's comfort. From a saddle bag she pulls out some sort of parchment and sits there casually reading it while eating an apple. She breaks off a piece absent mindedly and hands it round to the searching Impi and at the same time she continues to read.

Looking up from the parchment, but down at Koravel she smiles warmly at him, but there is no doubt she is still a little overwhelmed by the half-elf's sudden gesture from earlier.

"Trust T'riss," she says, but has to stop as her mare had started biting at the air and stamping her feet causing her mythril chain-mail barding to jingle musically "Quit it, Fidget. Or you won't get anything." She hands Impi the apple core when the horse had started behaving again.

"You'll be all right on Jareb," she continues, "The quicker you get on, the quicker it's over and done with and the quicker we can find Azrael, besides, what's the worst that could happen? As for encountering the bad kind of undead..." she looks to T'riss. "It is inevitable, though I agree it's a good idea to keep these guys out of the way as much as we can. I'd rather fight with tooth and claw than let a single scratch fall on any of them."

Putting away the parchment she continues to speak to T'riss "How did you say we would find Azrael? Followers of Jergal are pretty easy to spot but Waterdeep is... well... huge and I'm only good at tracking in the wilds, not the city. As amusing as it sounds, I don't fancy cantering down every street looking for him," she chuckles

T'riss grins, "Oh but it'd make such a pretty picture, with all our marvelous beasts." She pats Liridon's neck. "Flit will show me the way, won't you lil' buddy?"

Flit chitters from her perch on T'riss' horns. T'riss lifts a hand up and Flit hops into it. "Go find our glum aasimar fellow, would you, Flit?"

Giving a cheerful little trill, Flit takes off towards Waterdeep almost too fast to follow. After a second, the creature disappears completely, having jumped into another dimensional level to travel even faster.

"By the time we get to Waterdeep, she'll know where our fellow is."

T'riss tosses the reins to Koravel, "Just get on; you're dead already, what's the harm in a horse?"

Jareb sniffs at Koravel, a bit tense, but T'riss brushes his mind reassuringly and Jareb snorts into Koravel's tunic. Giving an "affectionate" head butt, he seems to at least be compliant.

Koravel sighs. "I'm going t' regret this. I's just knows it." Slipping one hand over Jareb, he suddenly vaults over the horse... entirely. Landing in the hay on the other side. "SEE! IT THREW ME!" Koravel realizes what really happened a second later, and cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. This time when he leapt, he landed in the saddle. His eyes were shut tightly, and every nerve in his body bespoke tension. Opening one eye in a face from which all color had drained, he whispered, "Are we... there yet?"

Endellion smiles; takes up her reins, lets down her stirrups and before she has even asked - Impi walks up alongside Jareb.

"Next time you go for a 'tumble in the hay', take me with you. It looked fun," she says, teasing Koravel. "I want to see why all the milkmaids find it so enticing," she adds with a mischievous smile.

Her 'tune' quickly changes when she sees how tense he is. "Hey, relax, it's not so bad... give it a few days and you'll wonder what all the fuss was about," she grins and coaxes Impi into a walk.

She turns in her saddle to talk to T'riss. "We ready?" she asks, as eager as Impi is to get going.

Shael grins, "You know, T'riss once wrote this horrid song entitled Tumble in the Ha--Hey HEY!"

T'riss has slapped Fafnir's rump and sent him galloping towards Waterdeep.

Letting out a whoop, she takes off after them, Liridon floating across the turf.

As they near the city gates, Flit appears in front of T'riss, who quickly shouts at Shael to stop, also making Liridon halt.

"We've got a location, everyone! He's in the Temple of Lathandar. I know the way."

With that, she slows to a dignified walk and begins to make her way through the City of Waterdeep. She either ignores or doesn't seem to notice the hushed whispers as the party makes their way on their fine animals. When they finally pull up to the brilliant Temple, T'riss dismounts and ties Liridon to the hitching post.

Spying a small figure in the shadows, she smiles. A horse thief, a child by the size and proportions. T'riss whispers to Liridon, who snorts and bobs his head.

Choosing to ignore the child for now, she turns to the others, "Well, shall we go in? I'm sorry, Koravel, but you are going to have to wait outside. Unless you like turning to ash or whatever it is Lathandar would do to you."

She whispers in his ear when he's dismounted, "There's a small child, likely a girl, in that alley across the way. I'd bet my boots she's a horse thief. Be careless and let her try to take one of the horses. They'll catch her. If she's good with the animals, there's some place I can send her where it'll be put to constructive use instead of risking her freedom and fingers. Send Flit if she's caught."

Flit perches on Liridon's mane and huddles down into it, disappearing into the mass of horse hair.

She waits patiently at the steps with Shael for Endellion.

Endellion waved at the two, and yelled for them to head on in. She waved the piece of paper she had been reading earlier, and ran off into the city, but obviously knowing exactly where she was going.

The teifling and the barbarian glance at each other. "Ah well," T'riss comments, "She seems to know what she's doing on. Come on, Shael. Let's go find our winged friend." The two of them duck into the temple, noticing Azrael sitting on the bench. T'riss smiled. "Waiting for someone?"

**********************

Koravel nods at T'riss' instructions, and watches as the others slip into the temple of the Morninglord. He's pretty sure he would be protected, but it's not smart to risk that in the temple itself.

Turning his back on the horses, he sits down on the steps of the temple proper, and is about to pull out something to snack on when two red-cloaked figures come around the corner. Immediately choking down the food, he turns to run down a side alley, only to see two others. Koravel doesn't even bother to try the other way out, knowing there will be two more coming that way.

The lead figure reaches him and removes his hood. Impassively, he removes a scroll from his cloak and reads aloud. "Koravel Blackdawn, of the Elder Hirgath Tribe, you have been sentenced to death by the council of four for the following crimes. First, and foremost, turning your back on not only your god, but on all the gods, falling from the grace of Tyr, and refusing to repent and return. Second, for the murder of the high priest Jalkan, when he was engaged in legitimate temple activities. Third, accusing a temple of Tyr of prostitution, slavery, and trafficking in stolen articles, which you said was a form of payment, as if they were common mercenaries. Fourth, for the murder of many good men and women, which time does not permit me to mention, who were sent to bring you back into the fold--"

Koravel snorts. "T' assassins, you mean?"

The red-cloaked man looks up. "Yes. Fifth, for the theft of the sum of five thousand seven hundred and forty five gold pieces from the temple of Waukeen. Sixth, for severely injuring the arch-mage Khelben Arunsen when he attempted to eradicate you for being an abomination. Finally, for joining the ranks of the undead, and refusing to go quietly to the afterlife. Do you have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?"

"Yeah I do. I'm surprised you came yourself, Jacen."

The man smiles. "I decided to off you personally, as too many people had failed." He draws a sword, glowing with the light of the divine. "Anything else?"

"One last thing. Why in t' hells do ye think ya can best me with these odds?"

Jacen smirks. "Six against one? I think I can answer for your death."

"Methinks ye miscounted. It's six against two." Drawing Gil'rad from its sheath, he charges at the man, who falls back and lets the others attack, circling the former paladin, seeking an opening. Gil'rad is in his element.

"Have at thee, false men of Tyr!" *whack* "Ye does shame to the name," -*whack*- "of thy god by attacking an innocent"-*whack*-"man! In my day,"-*whack*-"we only attacked criminals."- *whack*- And so on.

These men are not simple assassins, but rather trained fighters. Koravel snarls something and rips the amulet from around his neck. He regretted having to do so, but there was no choice if he wanted to live. A shimmer passes over his form, and he turns into a rotting, walking corpse. Koravel's sword cleaves straight through one of the red-cloaks shields, taking advantage of the man's surprise at Koravel's new appearance, and cuts the man in half. He took several glancing hits for this one blow. The five remaining assassins pause a moment to call upon Tyr to guard their shields, and then continue forcing the half-elf backwards towards the wall. Koravel is running out of room, and also out of time.


	10. Mysterious Allies

**Mysterious Allies**

Jacen laughs, and steps forward, ready to finish this fight. There is a slight shimmer in the air around the combatants, and Jacen's face takes on a look of indescribable pain, before he quite suddenly collapses in several pieces. Koravel looked just as startled as the rest of the Tyrrans. Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were, he counter-attacked the four assassins ferociously.

**************

Inside the temple, T'riss tapped Azrael on the shoulder. "Who are you waiting for, aasimar?"

Azrael replied without glancing up. "A man named Kerth. He is a reliable… friend, a former assassin. He should have the information we need to—"

T'riss' eyes glaze over. "By the hells! Shael! Outside, we've got trouble!"

Azrael shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't say that. The Zhentarim aren't even in Waterdeep, as far as my contacts know."

"Not the Zhents… Tyrrans. They're after Kor!"

Shael nodded, swinging her war-mace over her shoulder, and darted outside.

**************

Koravel was hard-pressed to fend off all four assailants. He had managed to wound one rather seriously, somewhere in the man's chest area, but his invisible ally had not seen fit to strike again, and the half-elf was getting tired of swinging Gil'rad around, just attempting to block the assassin's blows so that he might live for awhile longer.

All four assassins were not paying attention to anything going on behind them, and the effect when Shael struck was rather like a bowling ball when it hits pins. The wounded man was put out of his misery rather quickly by Fafnir's hoof smashing down on his head, and another was taken in the back by Shael's club. The ensuing commotion allowed Koravel to decapitate the third, and the last took off down the street as fast as he was able. Shael and Koravel watched him go, neither wished to kill the man.

"My thanks, Shael of the North," Koravel grinned at the barbarian before fading back into the shadows, in case someone from the temple came to investigate. If one looked closely at where he had vanished, they could have noticed a shimmer in the general vicinity, as Koravel returned to his more natural self.

Shael gave him a lopsided salute, and then set to cleaning up the mess.

Shree returned to the temple, just sheathing a blade that is red with blood, muttering something about the stubbornness of dwarves. She seemed rather startled at the five bodies that littered the street, and looked questioningly at Shael.

"More assassins," the big woman grunted. "After Koravel."

Shree nodded, and looked around for the half-elf. Not spotting him, she set to helping Shael clean up the mess.

It was about then that there was a sudden commotion, as Impi suddenly tossed her mane up and snorted, before moving with a lightning-quick to grab the clothes of a small girl who had apparently been trying to steal the horse.

Shael laughed, and headed over.

Endellion looked up from her grisly work. "Who's that?" She grimaced as she asked, and reached under her cloak. There was small flash of light, presumably from a healing spell.

Shael smiles, "Just a little girl what tried to steal the horses. From what Flit tells me, she nearly did to, with all the commotion. T'riss'll want to be speaking to her; she sends little waifs like this off to stablehand jobs with various nobles."

The little girl gasps and Shael laughs, "That's right, little one. All those fancy palfreys and coursers are begging to have their manure scooped and if our horses say you're good enough to do so, then we'll send you there. No common horse thief are you, much as you probably think otherwise."

Shael bends down and whispers to Endellion, "T'riss will hardly fail to notice something is bothering you unless you sincerely cheer up. I'm not going to pry, and T'riss won't either, but she'll be concerned and if she's concerned enough, she'll ask anyways. I swear the woman's got mind powers sometimes." She taps her temple.

There is a sudden shout from the stairs of the temple of Lathandar, and a troop of Dawn Knights storm out of the temple to surround Shael and Endellion. They take one look at the insignia on the men's cloaks, and since it is the holy symbol of Tyr, they immediately draw a false conclusion. "Murderers! Surrender yourselves and you may live, for the time being. You will be entitled to a fair trial under the watchful eye of Helm. Though remember that while Helm controls the court, the light of Lathandar shines on you and we will pray for your souls, despite your heinous crime."

As the dawn knight speaks the last words, Kerth comes racing back to the temple. He looks rather scared as he glances at the bodies of the five Tyrrans, and doesn't stop to inquire, but runs into the temple. Where the first thing he sees is T'riss. "DEMON! There's a demon in the temple!" He swings a mace at T'riss, but Azrael steps inbetween the two, and takes the mace right out of Kerth's hand. "Silence. Perhaps you should wait to see if people are hostile first, before you go killing them."

Kerth opened his mouth once or twice, aghast at the site of Azrael and the teifling standing there calmly watching him. Unable to think of anything else, he says, "There's been murder committed on the steps of this very temple, Azrael."

T'riss laughed. "Nonsense. It was self-defense; the Tyrrans were after a comrade of mine."

Kerth looked smug as he replied. "You might want to tell the Dawn Knights that before they haul them away to trial."

"What?!" The teifling burst outside, and the Dawn Knights turned their weapons on her. "By all the hells! First a murder on the very doorstep of the temple, and now a fiendling inside the temple itself! What is Faerun coming to?"

A strange warmth comes over everyone in the near vicinity as a tall aasimar walks in, his armor glowing subtly, as if it reflects some inner light. A large great sword is slung across his back, with a large white cloak trailing down and brushing along the floor. He appears to be only in his late twenties, but the look in his eyes seems to suggest years beyond count.

When the Paladin speaks he is calm, but there is an unmistakable sadness in his voice, "Be calm Brothers, the Tyrrans started this battle. They have for years now been acting... questionably, and corruption is suspected by the church of Helm and certain chapters of Tyr outside of Waterdeep. As for these adventurers, they are here in peace," he finished.

Endellion slowly gets up off the step, a hand wrapped round her middle as the wound she had healed not so long ago refuses to stop spilling blood. Turning to the dawn knight that spoke she raises her free hand in surrender.

"Please," she says. "I don't know who this guy is but he speaks the truth." Sensing somehow that her world alone is not enough she very slowly, so as not to raise alarm, pulls off her glove with her teeth to show the 'lead' dawn knight a small tattoo on the back of her hand - though she is careful not to show anyone else at all.

The tattoo itself is a small silver harp, circled by a crescent moon and four stars dotted around the edge - the symbol for a Harper.

"I would not lie to you but if you need more proof of my loyalties I have it..." she stops as she falters again, sending another useless wave of healing magics through her body, whatever has wounded her will not heal with her meager magic alone. "But first, if you don't mind..." she drops to her knees in a gasp of pain and has to speak through gritted teeth. "I would _really_ like a little help with this damned hole in my side."

The Paladin sees the symbol and kneels down in front of the half elf. "I implore you, be still good lady..." he says removing a gauntlet from one hand, as he does so, his hand glows white and he presses it gently against the wound, sending warmth through her body as the wound seals its self up and the blood vanishes as though there had never been a wound at all.

He feigns a check up, using it as an excuse to whisper quietly to her, _"_Be wary, there is more to each person here than it may seem, I sense a subtle evil, and it comes from even the priests them selves... you must watch your companions' backs and pray they do so for you_," h_e says quietly and stands up straight again. "You were most fortunate today my lady, the gods have found you worthy of continued life."

The Dawn Knights do not look happy, but they appear to know the aasimar, and return to their duties inside the temple, content to let him sort out what happened.

Kerth nearly falls, but manages to sit down on a nearby bench. "When this is over, do not ever seek me out again, strange things happen around you." He shakes his head.

Endellion gets up off the floor and quickly puts the glove back on her hand before anyone else, other than the Paladin and the Dawn Knight that spoke to her, notices the Harper insignia - she catches the Paladin's eye hoping the tattoo will never be mentioned again in public.

"Thank you," she says gratefully to him, adding a smile when she looks at Shael for a brief moment. "I am in your... and your god's debt, whoever that may be. The name's Shree..." She stops.

Something in her words suggests she doesn't wish to speak in the street and she gestures to Shael and the Paladin to the temple.

"At least someone here has a shred of compassion," she adds glaring at the Dawn Knights before sweeping past them in a flurry of cloak and into the temple, clearly more than annoyed at the events and wanting to distance herself from the Dawn Knights.

********

Endellion is about to speak again with the Paladin and turns around to see if he is following, as she does so she spots Azrael. As soon as her eyes clap on the black-winged Aasimar she grins broadly, her initial annoyance has completely vanished.

"Hey!" she says patting his shoulder in a friendly fashion when she gets near enough. "I won't ask what you are doing in a temple dedicated to Lathander but..." she pauses and folds her arms though there is no malice in her eyes, only mild curiosity. "Actually, yes. Yes I will ask. Come on, what's going on and what does this have to do with the Zhentarim?"

Shael shrugs and bows gracefully to the Dawn Knights, "Gentlemen."

She then follows Endellion into the Temple, carefully watching her to make sure she's okay to walk. Also carefully thinking over the glimmer of silver she caught on Endellion's hand. The child tugs on Shael's hand and protests the fast pace. Shael apologizes and slows her walking.

As she sees T'riss and Azrael she hollers over, "Heya, T'riss! We got ourselves a little horse thief here!"

Shael swings the little girl up, catches her in both hands and places her gently in front of T'riss, who kneels down. The girl is shaking at T'riss' appearance. T'riss grins softly, downplaying her pointed teeth that would no doubt frighten the girl worse.

"What's your name, little one?"

The girl trembles a bit, overwhelmed by the events. "K-kayla, l-lady."

"I'm T'riss. Did you like my horses?"

"Yes, but I promise, I won't take them! I won't take--"

T'riss laughs gently, "Easy, Kayla, it's okay. My horses like you two. You know what they told me?"

The girl's eyes get wide, "They _talk _to you!"

"Sort of. More like I can hear them. My horses tell me you can learn; would you like to learn?"

"Yes, ma'am! But… but I can't go afford to go to school..."

"It's okay, little one, I have a special friend in the city who can teach you. Do you know where Lord Piergon's estate is?"

"Yes! It has the big barn, but I've never been there...the walls are too high."

T'riss takes a stone carved with a signet and presses it into the girl's hand. "Go around the wall to the side door and show this to the guard there. Tell him that you wish to see Master Pember. Master Pember is the Lord's Horse Master, he can talk to horses too. He'll take care of you."

The girl begins to jump and T'riss stops her and looks at her seriously, "Kayla, it's a lot of hard work; it won't be easy!"

Kayla shakes her head, "But I want to, lady! I don't mind work!" She shows T'riss her little callused palms, "Please! Please!"

T'riss laughs and lets the girl go, "Go along then. Be careful on the way, and if anyone stops you, tell them T'riss Halidor sent you."

Kayla squeals and races out the door, grinning.

T'riss rises, smiling widely. "I'm sorry, Azrael, were you about to fill us in? My apologies for the interruption."

Azrael nods. "It is simply that we are hunting Zhents, and Kerth here not only knows where they are, but has secured proper berthing for all of us onboard a ship that will take us close to the Zhentarim's hideout. As long as we take him with us. And please, try to not annoy the priests, anymore than you already have." He rolled his eyes at that last bit.

The paladin understands fully the half-elf's desire to keep her secret secure and complies. "I am known only as Lord Whiteblade, I am a champion of Lathandar, taking his light to the darker corners of the world, I am here simply visiting the place of my upbringing, alas, only the Sunrise Lord still remembers me," he says.

Upon seeing how T'riss deals with the child he gains a sad look in his eyes and looks away, pretending to be busy, when she goes his eyes meet with the tiefling. "You... you are the one that the Sky elf seeks...." he says to her, standing quite still like someone relaying already known information to a friend, seeking their confirmation of a rumor.

Endellion inwardly sighs with relief as Lord Whiteblade keeps her secret. To Azrael she bows her head in compliance.

"I admit I was rude for no reason other than I was... having a bad moment and these people turned up at just the wrong time," she says quietly. "I apologize for my hostile words and I'll stay my tongue before I say other things in needless anger."

"Sorry," she says to the Dawn Knights in general. "I get grumpy when I hurt."

"Dawnbringer," she says politely and inclines her head in greeting to the priest, then glances around the temple. The Dawn Knights are worrying her a little.

"If you don't mind... I'll _just_ wait outside," she smiles sweetly and goes to leave.

T'riss cocks her head at the Paladin, "I am unsure of what you refer to, Whiteblade. I do not personally know any Avariel, but that does not mean one is not seeking me. If you hear from him, please, give him my location and my welcome."

Flitter comes flying in and perches on T'riss' horns. She lifts up a hand and Flit jumps into it and T'riss idly pets her while looking thoughtful.

Shael frowns a bit as Endellion leaves and mutters "She shouldn't have to apologize… she was bleeding for Uther's sake. City folk...bagh."

Shael bows to Kerth, "We'd welcome you, Dawnbringer."

T'riss arches an eyebrow at Azrael, "Not that I'm doubting you, but have you told the good Dawnbringer about our...mercenary? I believe it'd be pertinent, given Lathander's opinion of his sort."

Kerth almost jumps up when he hears something about a mercenary. "What mercenary? What opinion?" He looks at Azrael somewhat angrily.

Azrael sighs. "You are better off without knowing, as always. You know what happened the last time."

Kerth suddenly looks scared as Azrael reminds him of something that happened to him previously.

Azrael does not look at T'riss as he speaks to her. "Some people are better off not knowing." Azrael follows Kerth out of the temple and heads west to the docks.

Endellion is far more cheerful once out from under the watchful, if somewhat 'strangling' gaze of the Dawn Knights.

As Azrael passes her Impi unties herself and trots over to Endellion, the half-elf takes a loose hold of the reins. She'll find somewhere to tether Impi once they are in the Docks area.

Endellion isn't sure where Koravel is and waits for T'riss, Shael and Whiteblade while hoping the mercenary sees them leave - she's like that, now she is getting used to having them around.

T'riss shrugs and turns to go, Shael following along. They collect their horses, leaving Jareb for Koravel to collect.

"Kerth, do you have a horse? If you don't, I can either go pike to get you one or you could ride double with Shael," T'riss offers. "Once we get off the ship, I think most of us are riding."

Kerth seems slightly angry when T'riss offers him a horse, and retorts quickly. "I do not bargain with demons." He completely ignores the teifling and turns to Azrael. "I have secured a ship and a crew, as well as the location of our "dear friends". They are waiting for the "Black Cauldron" to set sail, it was damaged and will be here for awhile. The owner of the ship is a merchant with friends among the Zhentarim, he will however most likely be in the nearest inn with his crew."

Azrael nods. "Then we can kill them easily and board our ship to Baldur's Gate. It will be more difficult to track down the agents there."

Kerth shakes his head. "Not necessarily. I have a friend there that still owes me a favor, he will get us the information."

Azrael seems to smile but it's hard to see clearly. "Good. They will soon pay for their insult to Jergal." Azrael thinks for a while. "And she is not a demon."

Kerth bows his head "Maybe, but I still do not trust her." He takes a quick look at T'riss to make sure she isn't trying to kill him, all the while keeping his hand on his mace.

T'riss laughs, "Silly little priest, do you think Lathander would have even allowed me in your Temple if I intended harm?"

Shael shakes her head. She never could understand how T'riss could just brush away people's reactions to her. When T'riss had been found by her Tribe, they would have burned her right then and there if it had not been for Shael's father. Even if the jarls and thanes were willing to burn someone who had no crime except their birth, at least against them, he knew the law and honor and the tribe's chieftain was always wise enough to listen to his shaman. Yet, even if they had not withheld their torches, T'riss would have just shrugged them off and smiled.

Shael grins and dances Fafnir to slam into Liridon, "Foul demoness! You have tempted my horse into unholy love with your own!" She draws a hammer from her belt and mock swings at T'riss, who moves Liridon to the side effortlessly. T'riss smiles, "Aye, and tempted you to anger! Look at how your sense runs like water from your ears. Have you considered earplugs to hold it in?"

Shael laughs and puts her hammer back in its loop. "Aye, Tiefling, but you took them in the night."

"Well that's what you get for gold plating them. How do you think I paid for your ale?"

Shael just roars with laughter.

A dagger flies past T'riss' head hitting the wall behind her, yet Kerth never seemed to turn. "Do not mock me fiendling." He seems ready to take something out from his robes.

Shael curses, but waits to see T'riss' reaction. T'riss, of course, doesn't do anything but laugh, "Well, someone wasn't always a nice little Dawnbringer. And I'll mock you as I please until you treat me as I deserve. I've done nothing to you, Kerth, nor do I plan to." She plucks the dagger out of the wall and trots over to Kerth, offering it to him hilt first with a little bow from the saddle, "Dawnbringer, your dagger."

Kerth snatches it out of her hand with a muttered curse, and T'riss falls back alongside Shael.

Whiteblade walks with great strides, easily overtaking the band. "I would talk with you for a moment..." he says to T'riss, stopping her. "The sky elf, I saw him more than a ten day ago, and it took him a great deal of courage to meet me face to face; he seemed to know I would meet you at some point, but could not meet you at the same moment. My guess is that human cities trouble him as much as surrounding walls and ceilings do, and I highly doubt I shall see him again soon.

"What he told me implied that he sought you at the request of a friend you two share in common, much more I did not catch before his phobias took hold and he was gone."

T'riss thinks for a moment, "Well I have a great many friends who I'm sure have friends of their own. We'll be on the road after we get to Amn, no doubt, so unless he has no problem with ships, I'm sure he could meet us there. Or I suppose I could wing up myself sometime and see if he'd meet in the air. I'll have to see. Thank you, Sir." She bows and continues with her party, knowing Azrael would start the ship without her if need be.

Whiteblade bows slightly, his head doing more of the bowing than his body and he turns, walking back up the street, intent upon leaving Waterdeep.

Outside of the city he moves purposefully along the roads, a noise he had been fully expecting doesn't stop him but he talks out loud, not looking to see where it came from.  
"They sail south, to Amn," he says simply and continues on his way.

Eilsar, from his perch, hears the paladin and nods once, taking off quickly and gracefully, taking care to avoid passing over the city directly, Ships did not worry him; so long as he remained above deck and dry.

*****************

Koravel watches as the events unfold from his hiding place. When the paladin shows up, he leaves for a while, finding the nearest inn and paying for the largest cask of ale he could find. Going back to his hiding place, he uses any excuse he can to drink some of said ale.  
"A toast t' thee, good aasimar, fo' your wonderful *hic* skills o' 'ealing!"  
"A glorious move, o teiflin'! O what a kind 'eart she 'as!"  
"A blessed insult, barbarian! T' sharp wit that flows from your tongue is *hic* some o' t' greatest I 'ave ever 'eard! Like this ale!"  
"A toast t' me for findin' this blessed nectar we call ale! *hic*"  
Gil'rad pipes up. "You? I was the one who saw the tavern, not your drunken eyes!"  
"O, shut up. You're a bloody sword. 'ow do you see anythin' a'tall?"

He slips from behind the statue where he was waiting, falling in behind the party, only letting Endellion catch sight of him. For such a big guy, he is awfully quiet. He doesn't trust paladins or priests, for good reason. He is hauling a large cask of ale over his head effortlessly, Gil'rad gripped in his other hand. He remembers something T'riss told him, what seems like a long time ago. "Hehe. Bet 'er nose is itchin' like mad."

***************

Far off down the road leading away from Waterdeep, a lone man is running as fast as his legs can carry him. He is obviously terrified, and keeps glancing behind him. His robes mark him as a Tyrran, and the bloodstains mark him as one who has recently been in battle. He finally slows, his breathing returning to normal, as he glances behind him one last time. With a sigh, he turns back, ready to strike out once more. A man is standing directly in front of him. Acting out of instinct, he struck, his sword swinging around in a decapitating arc. There is a metallic clang as it strikes the man's neck and glances off.

"Interesting. Do you attempt to behead all travelers you come across, Tyrran?" When he speaks, his voice is ice-cold, like the robes that he wears, which seemed to emanate a strange chill. They are a light-blue color, almost identical to that of the sky on a cloudless day, yet paler in tinge. The man's eyes are a fierce orange, and his gaze drew the Tyrran in.

"What are you?"

"You do not recognize me? Pity. I thought possibly you had heard of me, since your master uses mercenaries to do his dirty work."

"That's a lie. His Holiness hires no mercs." The Tyrran spat at the mercenary's feet.

The merc's eyes narrowed. "You recall what happened to your leader? You believe that was the work of that undead you were after? No? Well then, my good man, who do you think it was?"

"A wizard, obviously, one who was hiding—" The man's breath exhales in a sharp gasp as he belatedly put two and two together. "But why? Why would you help him?"

"Ah yes. I fully intend to kill him myself. Couldn't have you taking that pleasure away from me. Nor can I have you informing your superiors that you know someone is helping him. Would have served you better to remain dumb. Ah well. We live and we learn. Well, I guess that's not exactly true in your case…" he chuckled at his little joke.

The Tyrran gave a moan and attempted to dart around the merc. A black tentacle blasted out of the ground and hoisted the unfortunate Tyrran upside-down, so that he was dangling in the air in front of the man's face. The mercenary's eyes narrowed to slits and their color changed to a deep blood-red. "Tell the devils that Hellcrist sent you." The sun's last rays reflected off the flash of a scimitar. There was a deep, cold chuckle, and then Hellcrist was gone, with a last twirl of his robes.

In the morning, the authorities would find the body, of course, with a little puzzle waiting for them. What sort of murderer collects the heads of his victims? And why?


	11. Acquiring Transport

**Author's Note: This one took quite a bit longer to transcribe. Of course, the fact that I had four tests last week didn't help at all.**

**On a side note, this just hit 100 pages in MS Word. And I look at some of the other stories on here, that are over 150,000 words, when this one is at 44,000 or so, and I realize several stories on here could easily be books.**

**In any case, enjoy.**

**----**

**Acquiring Transport**

The group takes nearly half an hour to reach the docks, Waterdeep is a large city, after all. Kerth points out their ship.

"Excellent." Azrael starts forward, but Kerth's expression stops him. "What is it?

"Well, the captain doesn't exactly know we are coming."

The aasimar's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"It's a Zhentarim ship. I figured we could take their ship off of their hands. There are only two we really need to worry about that are aboard, an elf and a half-orc. The elf is a crack-shot with his longbow, I've seen him practicing. And the half-orc swings a warhammer with enough force to pulverize a knight wearing full-plate."

Azrael smiles, though it was brief, and you would have had to have been looking straight at him when he did so, if you wanted to catch it. "Most excellent."

Shael matched his grin. "Well, perhaps I should go first. I can easily match the strength of that half-orc."

Endellion is behind the others, walking quickly with Impi and Jareb in tow. Her sharp sight catches a glance of the half-elf as he moves silently with them. Her eyes widen when she sees the ale cask but she turns her attention away seeming as Koravel wishes to remain hidden and continues to follow.

As Kerth and Azrael call a halt she makes sure to tether the two horses outside an Inn and she explains to the stable boy that the two steeds will only be there for a little while. Happy with the arrangement, the boy leaves.

She stands a little away from the others staring in rapt contemplation at the ship with black sails with her arms folded. When Shael is asked if she would go first the ranger turns slowly to look at the barbarian bard, an eye brow raised but she still doesn't get any closer to the others and turns her attention back to the ship.

"If someone gets the one in armor, either of them for that matter, out on deck..." she says loud enough for everyone to hear, "then I'll play the role of sniper." She gestures to the rigging of a ship docked a single berth away. "From up there it's an easy shot, though... it might be best to keep fights below the deck. Folk might take offence to the slaughter and call the guards." She shrugs, still looking at the black sails. "It's a tricky one."

"I'd like to know the overall plan first, though. Don't want to draw everyone up top if the plan is to go below like Endellion said. I do believe we're less likely to be stopped by guards if we carry it below."

She dismounts and loosens her spear from its holster on her back so she can retrieve it with a simple pull. T'riss takes her horse and Fafnir and ties them by Impi and Jareb.

Shael shakes her head, "Bach, nevermind that, the only sensible thing to do is draw it into the ship. Not as safe, but less likely to be interrupted. T'riss, come with me, will you? I don't want to make too much noise, which means killing fast. And if you got those bolts..."

T'riss nods and pulls a handful of bolts out of a belt-pouch and puts them in small loops along her belt. Obviously of dark elven make, they no doubt have similar toxins on them.

T'riss fades into Shael's shadow, quite literally, and Shael begins to confidently walk up the gangplank of the ship.

A large burly sailor on deck stops her half way up. "Hey! What you want? This 'ere's a private vessel!"

Shael grins and sways her hips as she continues walking up the gangplank, putting on her best seductive face, "I had heard there were some astonishingly handsome sailors upon this vessel.... it seems such rumors were true."

As ridiculous as such drivel was, the sailor swallows and hesitates before raising an alarm. With her long strides, Shael quickly closes the distance and slams the sailor up against the mast, "Sorry, mate." She drives a dagger up into his chest and T'riss quickly sends a spray of blots across the ship, almost all of them finding a mark and causing the remaining sailors on deck to slump to the ground. T'riss waves the rest of the party up to the ship as Shael leans on the cabin door to prevent any who heard the commotion from coming on deck.

Azrael notices a guard coming along, and quickly puts his mask on.

The guard stops and looks up at the ship. "What in the hells is going on here?"

"Church business. Best to keep your nose out of it."

The guard looks a little nervous. "Well… I don't think that…" and he suddenly takes off back the way he came. "Help! Help!"

Azrael curses under his breath. "We're about to have some company, come on!"

Azrael heads up the gangplank, followed closely by Endellion and Koravel.

Koravel runs into a sailor first. The huge cask of ale is still balanced on one shoulder. Gil'rad cuts the man down with ease. An arrow comes flying out of the rigging and embeds itself in the cask. Koravel looks up and sees an elf, dressed in bright green chainmail, setting another arrow on the string. The elf noticed him looking, and saluted. "You're going to regret that, ya scoundrel!" The half–elf hurled the barrel of ale at the sniper. With no other option left, the elf hurled himself off the rigging as the barrel smashed into the sails directly behind where he used to be sitting. "Oops." Koravel looked rather apologetic. There was a massive hole in the sail now.

There was a splash as the sniper hit the water. Instead of sinking, he easily makes it back aboard the vessel with a few powerful strokes. He slipped right through the lower window and into the hold of the ship. Endellion had noticed him, and headed down the stairs to confront him. Unfortunately, she had under-estimated the elf's quickness, and while she was occupied with looking for him, he sprang up directly in front of her, and with a two short motions, disarmed the unprepared half-elf. He found it rather more difficult to kill her, however, as she quickly rolls out of the way.

"Hold still you slippery wench!" He shouts as Endellion sprints off further into the gloom swearing at the elf.

As she runs through the vessel, over cannons, under tables desperately trying not to get stabbed by the tenacious elf she manages to acquire a bottle of rum and an oil covered rag. She finds herself trapped and turns, a hastily made, crude, 'Molotov cocktail' in one hand and a flaming cantrip in the other. She stands her ground and grins when the elf slowly approaches her

"You wouldn't dare," he glares and spins his short-swords on his fingers.

"Come any closer and I will," she hisses. "I panic when I'm trapped."

The elf stops advancing and snarls while Endellion is currently deciding how she's going to get herself out of this one without getting too singed around the edges.

An arrow whistles in through the window, and passes completely through the elf's wrists. The shot would have required that someone was flying over the water, as indeed Eilsar was. The Avariel grinned at his shot.

Endellion sprinted past the elf, who was staring at his bleeding arms in shock, and drops him with a right hook to the jaw. She hurls the cocktail back in the hold, and it explodes when it hits the floor.

*****************

T'riss is trying without success to open a door that obviously leads to the main cabin. She leans against it, taking a breath, glanced around at the carnage on deck. Eilsar lands on deck. "Nice ship."

T'riss doesn't have a chance to answer him as the cabin door bursts open from the inside and a massive half-orc, fully seven feet tall, rages out. "What in the hells is…." His voice trails off as he looks around at the ship. "Why you! Little maggots will feel the wrath of my hammer now." He drew a wicked-looking warhammer from off his back, and swung it at T'riss. Koravel intercepted the blow, and for a brief moment there was a struggle of strength between the two. Shael ended it by smashing her spear through the half-orc's side. To her astonishment, the half-orc didn't even flinch. Rather he exerts a final burst of strength to throw Koravel back, and turned to Shael, who ducked the tremendous blow he leveled her way.

"Maggots! Die!"

Shael drew her hammer to block the half-orc's rain of blows. He was exceptionally fast for one wielding a weapon that was so large. T'riss suddenly appeared directly behind the half-orc, whether she had teleported or turned invisible was anyone's guess, and stabbed him with a knife that was glowing with a green substance. The half-orc merely swatted her with the back of his other hand, and sent her crashing back into the door. Koravel was still struggling to free himself of the wreckage of the chest that he had been unceremoniously tossed into, and the half-orc took advantage by rushing his way, with the intent of finishing the half-elf off. He raised his enormous hammer over the prone Koravel, but Shael intervened. The thud of a warhammer crushing something's skull is not a pretty sound to listen to, but at that moment, Koravel wouldn't have traded it for a full-blown orchestra.

"Finally." The half-elf managed to free himself from the chest, and glanced once at the fallen foe. "He sure took a lot of hits. An army of those guys would be hard to defeat, indeed." The group worked as fast as they could to drop the bodies of the Zhents over the side of the ship. Azrael declined to help, instead once again taking out his book, and recording down the names of those who had fallen, which caused Koravel to roll his eyes.

"Jus' a bloody excuse not t' do 'is fair share o' t' work."

"What was that, half-breed?"

"Nothing, aasimar."

***************

Unfortunately for the group, there was something going on below-decks. The concoction that Endellion had hurled back at the elven mercenary had set fire to more than just the merc. The ship was carrying a massive cargo of rum to the Zhents. And everyone knows that fire, rum, and wood do not mix.

****************

Koravel was the first to figure out the danger. He had headed down to the stairs, intending to claim the first bunk, and instead, the room that he walked into was full of casks of ale. A single tear rolled down the half-elf's cheek.

"Oh, by the gods. He's crying over ale."

"Lots o' ale. Beautiful ale. I think I will remain 'ere during the voyage. Perhaps I can persuade Endellion to share some of this wonderful…." And Koravel smelled the smoke.

******************

Endellion burst out from below-decks, her shirt in tatters, and partially on fire, and smelling like smoke. The Avariel, and the three other members of her party looked at her in astonishment.

"What did you do, Shree?" Shael asked. Looking past her, she saw Koravel coming towards them at a dead sprint. "Run, Shael! Very fast!" The barbarian asked no questions, but turned, and sprinted off the boat, yelling at Azarel to get his holy butt off of the ship before it got cooked. Kerth was the second down the gangplank, but only because he was closest, Koravel unceremoniously tossed Shree over his shoulder without pausing and headed off the gangplank. Azrael, by contrast, simply walked off the ship without even breaking into a jog. Well, maybe a little faster when there was a small explosion under the decks. Endellion suddenly let out a shout, "My sword!" And raced back onto the ship, Koravel turned to stop her, but he had taken only one step towards the boat when the aft end exploded upwards in a shower of wood and flames. The shockwave stopped the half-elf dead in his tracks, and the ship rather gracefully sank in less than a minute.

T'riss cursed loudly. "Damn it! Flit, can you still feel her? Is she alive?" There was a muttered squeal from the morph as she sat in T'riss' hair, and then she sped out towards the sea.

Flit flies out over the wreckage, darting around, and then flies back, whistling affirmative noises, "Bloody half-elf. Flit keep an eye out for her."

T'riss leans up against a post and watches the wreckage and sea around it.

Reaching into her pack to pull out a skein of T'riss' good ale, Shael passes it to Koravel, "Yer drunker than a dwarf and it seems to make ye better natured. We'll get you another keg for the road. It's not like it's goin' to kill yeh." She winks at him.

The Avariel takes a small quartz crystal pendant from beneath his robes and looks at it, as though reading from it.  
"There is still time, but I would ask that soon you take a short side trip with me..." he says as his eyes briefly flick to the Aasimar and back to T'riss. "But I would ask we speak first in private about the nature of my task."

When the ship explodes he jumps into the air and hovers above the scene, bow held tight in hand.

T'riss nods and hands her cloak to Shael. "Shael, go ahead and travel as you all need. I'll catch up. If Liridon doesn't load, tell him that I'll pen him with Keeli when he gets home if he doesn't load."

She extends out her wings from her back and stretches them out. She flinches and curses, "Dammit!" Bringing the wing around, one can see a bent and snapped feather sticking up out of the "arm" of the wing. Gritting her teeth, she plucks it out and gives the wing a shake. "Bloody wings."

With that she takes off joins the Avariel in the air. "Let's go."

*************

Nodding, the Avariel flies towards open skies, his graceful, spectacularly fast movements allow him to scan the lands below until he finds a spot he deems suitable. He lands lightly in an open space just outside of Waterdeep and turns to look at T'riss, removing the pendant again.  
"Forgive me, I would not normally pull some one away from their friends especially when they are on so important a task, but one of my friends, a human, recently called me to his home, and tasked me with finding you and when you had a free moment, to visit him, at his abode...." he says, quite confident that no one can hear or see them.  
"He told me of his travels with you and a few others some years ago; the Seer of fates, Jac Koel, is his name familiar to you?" he asks.

T'riss smiles widely, "Ah! Good ol' Jac! Of course, I'd be delighted to meet up with him! Don't worry about my comrades, they can take care of themselves and I can catch up quickly. Please, if you could show me the way, please do!"

The Avariel nods and holds the quartz crystal up, and utters a phrase under his breath. The pendant flashes brightly and T'riss and Eilsar are whisked away.

**************

Kerth watches as T'riss takes off into the air "I knew she was a demon!" he points at Azrael.  
Azrael sighs. "Do you think I am an angel?"  
Kerth thinks for a moment. "You may have a point, but do not come running to me when she stabs you in the back."  
It is impossible to see Azrael's face because of the mask, but one can imagine from his tone of voice that he is slightly annoyed. "She may stab you first." He looks around. "Now what do we do?"

Kerth brightens up considerably. "Well, there is another ship in port. I know the captain, and we could grab a ride with him."

Koravel groaned. "And you saw fit t' send us after t' Zhentarim ship before this one because….?"

"It would be more fun to take our own ship?"

Koravel rolled his eyes. "In any case, we can't leave Endellion behind. Hold this, Shael." He tosses Gil'rad to the barbarian, ignoring the storm of protest that this sent up from the sword, about being treated like so much refuse. Koravel was under the water before Gil'rad had completed his first sentence. Quite an accomplishment, considering how fast the sword could talk.

Under the water Endellion is a little trapped. The boat a kindly landed on top of her cloak, forcing her to abandon the garment in order to survive. She comes up for air, cursing profusely before diving back under again not only to avoid being burnt but also to retrieve her beloved longsword.

She sees her sword through the murky depths away from the boat. Determined not to leave the blade behind she swims for the sword, finding it wedged between two rocks from where the explosion had sent the blade flying and gripping the sword with both hands Endellion tries to tug the blade out from its resting place.

Koravel dives down under the water, and since his vision is unaffected by the water, he quickly finds Endellion, valiantly, but futiley trying to pull the sword out from the rocks. Pushing her to one side, he wraps both his hands around the sword and, placing his feet on the rocks, dislodges the weapon with a powerful tug. Grabbing the half-elf in his other arm, he swims up for the surface.  
"Ye fool elf! Nae weapon is worth your life!" His face softens as he hands her back her sword. "Are ye hurt?"

Endellion grins taking the sword back gratefully.

"Hurt?" she shakes her head "A few bruises, nothing more... and thank you. It was very sweet of you to help, that sword means the world to me and I'd never leave it behind." She smiles. "Besides, it gave me a chance to try and live by my mother's creed - 'Live fast, die young and leave a beautiful corpse'. Errr... no offense, of course."

She smiles sweetly and kisses Koravel's cheek before swimming for shore.

"I seriously owe you a drink.... or twelve!" She shouts back to him. "Possibly even find you a lady friend for a night when we get to Baldurs Gate," she adds with a wink.

Koravel chuckles as he swims back to the shore behind Shree. When he steps out of the water, though, he feels slightly less weighted than when he went in. "Not again," Shree can hear him whisper. His arm is cut off at the elbow. But it looks more like it dropped off....  
"Blast and damn you t' all of t' nine 'ells, Kethryl! If t' bloody coward..." He shakes himself, as if out of a dream. Turning, he looks out over the vast body of water, and shrugs his shoulders. "I suppose i'll have t' fight wit' one arm until T'rissiira gets back. Unless someone else is proficient in necromancy?"

When the ship exploded, the elf-like figure that had been fighting Endellion was thrown headfirst into the water. Sputtering and coughing, he came up and swam to the nearest shore. The group was stopped, waiting for the walking corpse and the fiendish half-elf to get back to shore. He slipped into the foliage, avoiding their prying eyes. A flash of his own green ones would have been the only thing someone would've spotted, even if they had been looking right at him.

Endellion is already out of the water and shaking off the excess when Koravel climbs out. She simply can't help herself and bursts out laughing when she sees Koravel is missing an arm without seeming to be in any discomfort.

"You're falling apart, old man," she giggles and makes her way to the water's edge where the waves have washed something closer to them. She fishes out the limb that she had spotted with her keen eyes and makes her way back to the undead half-elf. "But I doubt T'riss can help you I'm afraid. Can't it just be..." she holds the arm up where the hand falls limp comically "... stitched back on or something? I'm good with needles," she points to her own armor in explanation. "By the way, who is this Kethryl you...?"

Suddenly her eyes flick into the distance, sure she had seen someone watching them but she shakes her head, convinced she is simply being paranoid.

"I'll get you a new cask... and pay the next bar tab... give you a massage, breakfast in bed, my share of any spoils is yours from now onwards, find you a girlie for the night, I'll even provide the cream. _Anything_ you want it's yours... and you can definitely call me by my first name for this," she pats her longsword's sheath lovingly. "We better find the others, they're over there somewhere and we don't want to miss the ship," she uses Koravel's arm to gesture in Shael and Azrael's direction, the hand forlornly flaps around a bit till she realizes what she is doing and stops.

"Doesn't it hurt?" she asks. Though filled with good-natured humor there is an underlying note of worry in the sharp green eyes.

"Nae much, Shree, it really—" Koravel is cut off as a large group of guards appear, who immediately start yelling at the pair, "Stop! You are under arrest!" The guards draw their swords and continue running towards them.

"Time t' leave this little party." Koravel grabbed Shree's hand with his good one, Shree keeping tight hold of his other arm, and the pair took off after Kerth, Shael, and Azrael.

Those three, however, have problems of their own. As they are about to board the ship, several crossbow bolts fly past them. "Going somewhere Kerth? That would make us really mad, seeing as we have been chasing you for a long time now. You are not getting away so easily." The voice came from an elf wearing dark leather armor and a black cloak, who is lounging against the side of a building near the ship. He has a short sword in his belt and is holding a hand crossbow in his hand. His friends are a mix of elves, half-elves and humans. There are perhaps a dozen of them, and they immediately start to reload their crossbows.  
Kerth swung over the side of the ship, Shael and Azrael close behind. "Captain! Prepare to leave!"

The captain had already begun preparations, and turned to Kerth, signaling his agreement. "The other three had better hurry up!" The captain called after Kerth.

"There are only two others now, and I'm sure they're coming!" More crossbow bolts thudded into the side of the ship. Kerth swore under his breath.

**--Interlude--**

Eilsar and T'riss appear in the middle of a large glade, before them is a tall building, not nearly as threatening as most other mage towers, but no less impressive. The stone work is of a very high quality and the greenery of the forest around it only compliments it further. Above them, sitting on a balcony, a woman looks down at the newcomers and waves brightly to Eilsar before disappearing inside. A few seconds later, the ornate front door opens and a young half drow comes to the door.  
"Greetings Ilphaonar, it has been a while," the Avariel says and the half drow smiles, letting the Avariel and the stranger in.  
"Hello! Are you here to see grandpa?" he asks them both and Eilsar nods as the woman who had been on the balcony comes down the stairs behind the half-drow.  
When they go inside, the lower level is open and well lit, yet at the same time feels very homely.  
"And well met to you to Lillian, is your father in his study?" he asks, the woman is quite pretty and has long flowing dark-brown hair and eyes to match, but she is clearly the mother of the half-drow child who had answered the door.

"He is," she says, "Speak slowly with him Eilsar, he is rather dull this morning," she says.  
"My thanks, are your father in law and husband also around?" he asks.

"They are walking at the moment, but will be back soon."  
"Very well, thank you, I shall see you soon." He leads T'riss towards the stairs, at which point he turns around to her.  
"After you," he offers, bowing to the bard.

T'riss frowns a bit, "Grandpa--Ah I suppose it has been a while, hasn't it? I keep forgetting how much faster humans age..."

T'riss walks quietly into the room, where she can see the top of a man's head above the back of a large chair. She steps up behind him and places her hand on the back of the chair.

"Jac, my friend. It is good to see you." Her eyes are full of an odd tenderness; sorrow intermingled with joy and friendship. She should have found a way to visit him more often, the years pass too quickly.

The old man in the chair had been staring into the fire and is startled when T'riss speaks; Eilsar comes into the room and clicks the door shut carefully behind him, before going to stand quietly by a window.

When Jac speaks, his calm voice, once so soft and gentle, yet so easily heard, is calm, but wheezing.  
"T'rissiira.... my old friend, please, come into the fire light, my material sight is not what it once was..." he says. The man sitting in the high-backed chair is definitely Jac, but he is only a shadow of his former self.  
The deep lines in his face show how he has aged, and his hair, while still long, is silvery grey and if the man where to stand up, it would easily reach his belt line. His dark brown eyes have the milky tell-tale signs of early stage cataracts and his eyelids seem heavy in his face.  
"My word... I had almost forgotten how you looked..." he says, "Ironic that a once powerful master of time and space could do nothing to dodge age, and yet his friend has managed to miss it altogether..." he adds, a brief flicker of a smile comes to his old face.  
"How long ago was it that I left you and the others? Thirty, forty prime years? How long since we first met in Sigil? I suspect it is only days to you..." he adds, looking at the crystal ball on the table beside his chair.  
"I know what you are thinking, and what you shall say, but please... for old times sake... tell me, how you have fared?"

"Well, Jac. Well. Tymora keeps me busy, but I finally managed to devote more time to the animal breeding like I wanted. I take a contract from an outside party every once in a while." She smiles gently, "Even if I don't look my years, they still wear and I'm getting tired with the running about. Tymora insists I can come home to her whenever I wish, but I enjoy watching the passing of history too much. I've begun to write much of it up in collaboration with some of Oghma and Deneir's petitioners and such."

She places a hand on his arm, "I have missed you, old friend. And I know you know I'll say it, but I should have visited you more. How are you? And your family? Last time I saw your daughter she was a tot and now it looks as if she has her own! Your wife..." She hesitates, willing for Jac to fill in the blank.

There is still youthful energy in Jac's eyes as he looks up at his old friend.

"I may be old, but I can still see your guilt quite well, I hold nothing against you. I have seen how busy you have been, I watched you as you led Tarffynaonar to his new home, how happy you made him. Your actions set him up for life, and since that time, you have done so much more for so many more, and I am very grateful that you took the time to come with my Avariel friend just to visit an old man such as me."

"My family are doing fine, you met my daughter on your way up, and my grandson alongside her, my son in law and his parents you are yet to meet..." he says, "But they are already on their way here. Before they get here though, I wished that a small part of my will be fulfilled now, as It may not get done otherwise..." he smiles.

At that moment a pseudo dragon flies through the window and lands in the table, when Kaestraalin sees T'riss he clicks in excitement, still apparently as young as the first day they met.  
"You remember my familiar?" Jac says as the small dragon hops up onto the back of the chair to greet T'riss in a more affectionate way; by playfully tugging at her clothing and pushing his head into her hand to receive stroking, he seemed more cat like than dragon....  
"He is still young at heart, and it seems that being resurrected made him eternally youthful, with an energy I can no longer equal, so he spends most of his time now with Ilphaonar," he adds, flicking through the pages of a book that had somehow come into his hands.  
He opens it on a page with a set of musical instruments that look to be made of crystal clear glass with delicate silver patterns weaving across their surface.  
"You are a bard; I am sure you have heard of the wonders of the angelic sounds that are the celestial songs..." he says showing her the image.

T'riss gets up and moves over to the chest. She slowly raises the lid and looks truly awed for a moment.

Reverently, she shifts the padded cloth about and lifts up a glass mandolin...strange for a string instrument to be made of glass, but many such things are possible on the slopes of Celestia. Slipping on the charm bracelet, she runs her fingers across the strings.

Complete and sheer bliss shine on her face and she closes her eyes, savoring the last reverberations. A tear shines in the corner of her eye, but doesn't quite fall. "Ah, my dear Jac...You are too good to an old tiefling." She gently places the mandolin back into the chest. "A moment..." She pulls out a piece of parchment and scribbles a note across it with a pen, then rolls it up and sticks it into the lock-loop.

T'riss places her hand on the chest and mutters a few syllables and the chest disappears. "Hroli will take care of them. She was rather fond of you, you know. You were a good guest, unlike some others we've had recently..." T'riss shakes her head and rises to walk over to Jac.

"Thank you, my friend. For the gifts and for thinking of me." She places a kiss on his forehead.

"I hope they bring you as much pleasure as it has been to me to have known you..." Jac says.

The door opens slowly as Eilsar slides back in, this time accompanied by Lillian, Ilphaonar, a handsome drow male who must be her husband, and his parents. The drow's father seems overly familiar, made all the more evident by his graceful walk, his blue eyes fall upon T'riss and a bright smile appears on his face.

"It has been many long years since last we saw each other..." the drow says and Jac gives T'riss a knowing smile.  
"T'riss, you remember Tarffynaonar, that young drow we found near the temple of Pelor, now the proud father of my son in law, and his lovely wife; the daughter of the Eilistraeean priestess you left him with. The strapping young lad is their son, Faen'fyre. He is my son in law and father of Ilphaonar." he smiles as he lists the names, "My family..."

The now much matured Tarffynaonar walks towards T'riss, embracing her tightly as old friends often do when they meet.

"You are looking well my friend..." he says, his common tongue is perfect, even though he does not wear the ring enchanted by Jac all those years ago.

T'riss embraces Tarf in return, laughing "Tarfy you rapscallion! Should have seen traces of you in your grandbuck, had I thought to look! It's wonderful to see you." T'riss takes a moment and inclines her head to the Priestess' daughter, "It is lovely to see you as well, little one. Although, not so little anymore, I suppose." Her eyes glitter, "And your son! Such a fine lad! Ah, I shall not fawn and flutter too much, I always hated it when my elders did so."

She steps back and looks at them all, smiling, "Such a fine family. Jac, you're a lucky one. A lucky one indeed."

"Luck? Come now T'rissiira, you know I am a man of fate." he says,

The priestess's daughter smiles brightly to T'riss,  
"Greetings it has indeed been a long time," she says, her pale red eyes fall upon her own son and then her grandson. Tarffynaonar laughs along with T'riss.  
"Both Jac and I were surprised to hear of our children's romantic encounter, and more surprised when we met the parents," he says, smiling.

Eilsar looks quite guilty as he interrupts the conversation.  
"Please, forgive me, but I must be on my way, old friend..." he says and Jac nods slowly.  
"You have done as I asked, Eilsar of the Lost Peaks, I am grateful and I can get T'riss back to her companions from here. Thank you once more."  
"Very well, farewell old friend, I am glad to have known you," Eilsar says. "And I shall of course visit regularly..." he adds to the seer's family, "And farewell T'rissiira, fine lady of song." Eilsar bows to the bard before walking to the balcony and taking off, leaving no sound or sign that he was ever there.

Jac looks over his family one more time then at T'riss again.  
"I appreciate that you came here to visit me T'riss, but I shall understand if you are keen to return to your friends."

T'riss smiles sadly, "I'd love to linger, old friend, but I'm traveling with Shael, a Jergalite, a Lathandarite and a Living Corpse." She rolls her eyes, "And we're hunting undead."

She winks at Jac, "Tell me, Jac, is it Fate that my patience be tried so? Or just Tymora's Luck. If the latter, I hope My Lady is laughing."

T'riss bows down and hugs Jac, kissing his cheeks. "I'll come by after this little escapade. It shouldn't take long."

Jac smiles. "I feel no qualms in letting you know what I know; your life's path is full of challenges, but what makes you so unique is your ability to survive it all and come out all the stronger and wiser for it. It is your lady's favor that helps you through it so often, yet you are also more powerful than any person I have ever known; for you have friends and people who care for you. There is nothing that makes one more powerful than friends."  
Tarffynaonar retrieves a quartz crystal from a small box nearby and gives it to T'riss.  
"There are stones throughout this forest which protect it and all who dwelt within, to pass them, you must have on your possession one of the stones that grow in the caves beneath the waterfall in the heart of the forest. With this I will be able teleport you out of here. You might want to be ready for a fight."  
Jac raises his hand in a spell, and weaves a pattern through the air. As T'riss begins to shimmer, Jac smiles at her. "Oh, one last thing, a warning if you will; the man with the wild eyes... be wary of him, but not afraid, he is more complex than you may first realize..."

T'riss half-turns, and starts to ask something, but Jac, with a grin, finishes his spell, and the room faded from before her eyes.


	12. Unpleasant Reunions

**Author's Note: Well, I'm back. So sorry for the tremendously long wait, I've been rather busy this semester, and have been trying to keep my head above water. I will do my utmost to update once a week, on Wednesdays.**

**That said, I will be heading off to California come this Monday, so the next update won't be for two weeks, unless I can get internet at our hotel, in which case I might just be able to post another chapter. I'm not entirely satisfied with the flow of this one, and so I may edit it a bit in the future, but I told myself it was time to update the thing, and stop making excuses before you guys thought I died or something.**

**In any case, enjoy the chapter. A note on the non-English included:**

"_Al. Nindol morfethen klezn medose."- "Well. This complicates things."_

"_Ciaya, falyth."- "Come, servant."_**_  
_**

**-----**

**Unpleasant Reunions****  
**

T'riss popped up on the ship, ducking as a crossbow bolt flies through the air. "By the Lady! Can't you people ever have a peaceful moment?" The teifling rolled her eyes. It seemed that their little group ran into trouble no matter where they went. "Shael! Get those horses below! Kerth, tell your Captain to set sail, I'll get the others. Flit's with them, so we'll be back in a jiffy."

She disappeared from the ship again, leaving a startled Kerth to carry out her orders. Shael was more used to these types of displays, and calmly took the horses below.

T'riss appeared directly behind Koravel and Endellion, and grabbed hold of their tunics, "Sorry, Gentlemen, I'm going to have to remove your suspects here. Thank you."

The soldiers started forward, but before they got more than a step, Koravel, Endellion, and T'riss seemed to fall backwards into the ground, and vanish, as if they had been swallowed up.

The captain cursed, and headed for the docks at top speed.

****

T'riss piked the pair, and herself, back to the far side of the deck, so that the bolts are less likely to hit them. "I'll take this, thank you." She snatches Koravel's arm from Endellion and places it on the stub where it belongs. Quickly chanting a cantrip, the flesh knits back together, although the arm is still lifeless. Working with quick efficiency, she pulls a wand off her belt and zaps Koravel's arm with a beam of negative energy. "There we go, that should suffice. At least for now. I've got a Regeneration Scroll which should help some more that I can dig out once we're no longer under aerial assault." She ducks as another bolt flies in, "Bane's Balls!"

Flit darts in and lands on T'riss' shoulder, chattering excitedly. "Easy, Flit, I can't understand you; you're thinking too--wait what? You've got to be kidding me..."

Her eyes dart to Koravel, "I hope the Kethryl you know isn't the Kethryl I know, and if he is, he's not your father. My odd reunion quota has been met for the day."

Kerth pulls a wand out of his robes, points it at his attackers and blasts them with a fireball. "Captain! You heard the lady!" The captain nods and barks out new orders and the ship rather quickly leaves port, obviously aided by magic.

More assassins appear quickly, but with Kerth's distraction, they are too late; as the ship is already out of the reach of their crossbows. They quickly disappear again when the guards arrive.

Endellion can't help herself when T'riss snatches the arm off of her

"Hey! You could have..." she sighs and shakes her head, knowing it is pointless to argue.

She turns around and then suddenly shrieks.

"They shot me in the arse!" She reaches around and pulls a crossbow bolt out from her backside.

Seeming as they are now out of range of the crossbow fire Shree runs back to the dockside of the ship and at the rapidly disappearing assassins.

"You're lucky I'm stuck on this damned boat else I'd go back there, get you to kiss my backside better and then," she shouts even louder as most of them have gone and the ship is moving far quicker than she thought a ship should, "I'd rip the heart out of the one shot me! With MY BARE HANDS!"

As she shouts, venting her anger, the seagulls flying overhead echo her fury - shrieking and diving around the ship while the horses echo Shree too. They snort and paw at the deck throwing their heads. Impi even rears when the half-elf slams her fist against the rail in rage.

With a 'huff' Shree feels a little better, if a little stupid due to her less than impressive threat, and heals herself before turning to Kerth. The seagulls and horses also quiet down with her.

"Anyway," she says, her polite and pleasant self is back it seems, "Thank you for keeping me from getting burnt, but I do have one little question. They were shooting at us why?"

All the while she has an ear on T'riss' conversation, also wanting to know who this Kethryl person was.

Kerth simply throws her an amulet. It is disc shaped piece of metal. On one side there is a Z carved into it and on the reverse is a fist with rays of light squeezing out from it. Well-known indeed to Shree, it is the symbol of Bane.

She caught the amulet and recognized it instantly.

She looked up, her eyes narrowing dangerously but something in her glare hints she is thinking very hard about something. Eventually her eyes flick to Azrael and a hand that had been on the hilt of her sword lifts off it as she chooses to wait to hear more before retaliating

"No longer?" she simply asks and offers the amulet back.

Kerth accepts the amulet, and pockets it. "I am a Dawnbringer now, though I suppose I will always be a blade of Bane to those who continue to follow me."

Shree inclines her head.

"I'd be dead by now if you were not a follower of Lathander," she says quietly, it's a statement rather than anything else. "But how does one start as an assassin for Bane and then...?" She suddenly looks contrite. "I'm sorry, I assume too much and it's not my place to ask awkward questions."

Thinking she may have touched upon a sore subject she looks to Azrael and Kerth.

"Do you have any idea what we are doing in Baldur's Gate? I have... friends in places but something tells me you do not need my help."

Shael cannot help but burst into laughter at Shree's outburst. She continues laughing as she takes all the horses into their holding areas and is still grinning when she comes up.

"Aye it's a pity Koravel's no longer a Paladin, or he could give you a good lay on hands, Endellion!" Her eyes glitter with wicked humor.

T'riss looks at Kerth curiously, but doesn't comment or inquire. More than one man has led a good life after a bad one, and she's not one to question or begrudge unless it causes problems. Besides, she's still curious as to Koravel's knowledge of "Kethryl".

Shael, though, has no such compunctions. "Hmm...Banite to Lathandarite. I've heard of odder things. Ain't too comforting but ye seem to be good enough for me."

Endellion raises an eye brow at Shael and slowly smiles.  
"Who said Koravel needed to be a Paladin to lay his hands on me?" she chuckles wickedly.

Koravel grimaces as the arm is reattached, though a chuckle escapes his lips at Shree and Shael's banter.

"If ya really need someone to, I'd be more than happy t' make that wound all better." He winks at her before turning to meet T'riss' curious gaze, and answering her query.

"Nay, Kethryl is not my father. He was a fellow merc that was supposed t' help me take out that lich. No luck. He abandoned me as soon as we got inside. As t' whether ya know him... rather thin tan elf, green eyes normally, blue when he's mad, dual short swords and one sweet looking bow. Sound familiar?"

T'riss smiles wryly, "Yah, that's Kethryl alright. I gave him that bow, actually. I wasn't a huge fan of the thing, it's a bit bulky to carry about." The look in her eyes, however, belays her words. It is obvious that she was close friends with Kethryl, at least at one point.

Shael leans against the deck railing smiling, "So anyone here have a tithe to give to Umberlee yet? She so loves your breakfasts and I know neither T'riss nor I shall be giving ours up."

Kerth looked rather annoyed with Shael. "If people would just stop giving that hag offerings, she would die. She needs us more than we need her."

Kerth angrily went over to stand beside the rail, staring out over the waters. The captain seems to be the only one who isn't worried about the insult to Umberlee, the rest of the crew exchanged fearful glances.

Koravel shrugged off the worries of the crew, a dead person cannot drown. However, since he was looking at the crew, and not the water, he failed to notice an elf, dressed in green chainmail, pull himself over the side of the ship.

The elf quickly slipped a robe on over his armor, and slipped downstairs, it was almost as if he was invisible. He caught a glimpse of T'riss as she stood, looking out to sea, and his eyes narrowed. "_Al. Nindol morfethen klezn medose."_

Shael grins at the priest's preaching and at the sailor's unease, "It was merely a joke. What better way is there to diffuse fear than with laughter?" It certainly doesn't seem that the potential of a goddess' disfavor is enough to shake her joviality.

T'riss' ears twitch as Flit chitters at her excitedly. _"Mind him." _ Her eye turns, wondering, and she idly swings her tail in her hand, watching the waves as they ebb and flow.

****

Only a few minutes ahead of the party, two ships are side-by-side, one displaying the flags of a Neverwinter Merchant ship, the other; a black flag featuring skull and crossed bones, which makes their intentions rather apparent.

The Merchant ship had taken heavy damage and the crew were all up on deck fighting for their lives. One of them looks out of place, his large build gives him an intimidating presence, and his long dark brown hair combined with unshaven face give him a feral appearance.

He wears large leather boots and has leather bracers around his wrists, his loose fitting clothes are earthy colors, but even the natural greens and brows fail to hide their obviously dirty and torn appearance. On his large, thick leather belt hang several pouches, and a large leaf green cloak covers his back. Despite his rough looks the man still has a fairly friendly appearance, even in the midst of the chaos of battle.

As a particularly fearsome looking Half-orc pirate approaches him, the human Druid has the strength to lift him several feet into the air and drop him again, causing the pirate to fall over, stunned. Pleased that he had not killed the pirate; only removed him from the fighting, he continued, aiding and disarming, hoping that help would arrive soon.

****

Endellion rolls her eyes as Shael and Kerth both mention Umberlee.

"Oh great... that's just asking for it," she grumbles. "It's better just to keep your mouth shut."

When she hears Kerth's comments about the Zhentarim she looks around at Azrael.

"We're being hunted by the Zhent, a group I have had many fall ins with and he's right. Who knows how many there are, not even the Harpers themselves have any idea, or so hear-say goes. But your friend seems to add to the problem, which makes matters more interesting." She nods, accepting the mess she assumes she has unknowingly wandered into. "I only hope Kerth is more of a help than a hindrance and from his background... I'd say he will be... hopefully."

She sighs and subconsciously shakes her hair covering her ears as the wind has tucked it back behind. Leaning on the deck rails next to Koravel she grins happily.

"South," she says. "Home... ish." A sad little glimmer tints her smile and she gets off the rail. "I'm going to go looking for the kitchens, find something to celebrate the beginning of the trip. And you can check out my 'wounds' any time you wish," she says playfully to him and taps his nose lightly with a finger.

With a seductive smile, she's pretty good at it being a 'mild' follower of Sharess, she saunters off with a wink that could melt the heart of even the most hardened of men. A whistle of approval escapes the lips of a crewman and Endellion grins at him as she passes on her way down into the ship but stops suddenly, looking out to sea and spying the ships in the distance.

"Captain!" she shouts. "Look up ahead!"

She runs up to the bow. "It's flying Neverwinter's colors!" she calls back, as she turns to the captain. "We can't just leave them.... please!"

The captain glanced at Kerth, he was, after all, paying for this little trip. Kerth nodded. "We cannot just leave these poor people to their fate!"

The captain nodded, and whirled, giving orders to his crew. They drew closer to the fight hurriedly. Koravel grinned. "A propah brawl this 'ere will be, I'ma thinkin'."

The half-elf leapt onto the enemy ship when the_ Dawn's Edge _was close enough, and took the head off a startled pirate before he could so much as draw his weapon. The druid on board looked at him crossly. Every life was precious to him, but he wasn't going to argue that now. Especially not with someone whose sword weighed as much as he did.

The Dawn's Edge sailed close enough for the sailors to board the pirate ship. Most of them swung over immediately and begin fighting. Several of the sailors headed below as soon as they could clear a path, and set the hold of the ship so that it was ready to blow. From their actions, it was apparent they had done this several times before.

Koravel noticed what was going on. "Time to leave. Come on, you. Unless you want to be blown sky-high," he said, addressing the druid. The man nodded, and followed Koravel over the side, where, with a few powerful strokes, the two of them reached the Dawn's Edge. The sailors began to fall back, and the pirates gave a rousing cheer, and followed them over to the Edge. Their ship blew behind them before most of them could get across. The rest of the pirates lost heart at the destruction of their ship, and either surrendered, or were quickly and ruthlessly cut down.

The druid began to toss ropes to those that were still in the water, seemingly uncaring as to whether they were pirates or crewmen from the Dawn's Edge.

The captain gave orders to the rest of the crew. "All right, you scurvy dogs, get those men up on deck. Toss the pirates inta the hold, and make sure you tie 'em up good and tight. We can hang those who don't have enough rope to tie. Let's make sure our men are all up here safe and sound. Now get to it!"

The crew of the Dawn's Edge hastened to obey their captain, hastily dragging the survivors on board, and tossing the pirates into the hold. Those men who were wounded, they left out on deck, and the druid went among them, using his healing magics, as sparingly as he could. He didn't want to exhaust himself too quickly. Koravel watched, but was unable to help, as his magics had deserted him when he had fallen.

The ex-paladin's eyes weren't the only ones on the druid, however.

Endellion eyed the man with trepidation from her vantage point in the bow of the ship. She seems frightened by something, and her large eyes regard the man with distrust.

Shael had been in the hold tending to Fafnir, (who was none too fond of ships), and comes up at the end of the fighting, "What the blazes was going on..." She quickly takes appraisal of the situation, "Oh." Her eyes alight on the tall healer and look appreciative, and not for his healing, as she studies him. She smiles slowly and looks up...

To see T'riss looking up from the same study of the same man. Shael arches an eyebrow and T'riss smiles and puts up her hands. T'riss mouths, "I give, far too tall for me." Shael laughs and they both turn to tend the wounded with their dry healer's kits.

"Heya, Druid!" Shael throws an extra kit to the druid when he looks up. She allows a hint of fire show in her eyes as she briefly meets the druid's own, but quickly quenches it and returns to her healing.

****  
T'riss bandages the wounded with a mindless ease. A thousand battles, a million wounds...after a while it doesn't require much thought. She's busy considering what Flit told her.

_**Flit. **_

_?  
_

_**Find him. Don't let him know. **__  
_

_^_^_

_****_

Koravel laughed as the druid went back to work, this time using his healing kits, again on all that needed his care, indiscriminate of whether they were pirate or crewmen. "Steady on there, mate. Mayhap we ought ta take care o' our own first, eh? They were trying t' take your ship, after all."

The druid ignored him, and continued to tend to the wounded men.

****

Kethryl slipped further back into the shadows as the druid comes on board. Great. More bodies to possibly find him. This would be absolutely perfect if T'riss wasn't on board, or he hadn't been specifically told to take her alive. The power he carries with him would be enough to blow the ship to pieces, but he would forfeit the pay if the teifling dies. The fact that she once was his comrade doesn't even enter the equation. Sitting as still as he can, he ponders what to do.

His distraction makes it a simple task for Flit, invisible as she is, to slip into his hair.

****

Koravel laughs as he notices Shael's look at the druid. It is good to be among friends, however short a time he has left, he thinks wryly. "Eventually, I'm just going ta fall apart all together," he mutters.

Shree finishes up quickly then heads straight for the kitchens, asking and getting a bottle of rum.

Slipping back on deck, careful to avoid everyone she heads for the bow, uncorking the bottle with her teeth and taking a goodly swig. She settles down, keeping a low profile, shooting a dark glance at the druid every so often. Alcohol solved many problems.

****

Kethryl swore under his breath as he remembered that T'riss never traveled alone. There was always this fuzzy-looking creature... "Blast! Flit!" This mission was rapidly going to the dogs. There was no way he could cloak himself, using his power, without letting everyone within a mile know where he was. He stayed silent, hoping against hope that the morph wouldn't find him, or that he could quiet it if it did. She always had liked him. Perhaps he could use this to silence her. Permanently.

****

T'riss freezes in the middle of bandaging up one of the merchants. Her head is cocked as if listening to something and her eyes go unfocused.

_!!!! !!!!! !!!! !!!!!  
___

_**What?! Flit WHAT?! **__  
_

_HERE Bad! death  
___

_**Besheba's balls....**_

_?  
_

_**Nevermind, Flit. Give me a lock...**__  
_

_here  
___

_**Got it. Watch him. **_

The merchant looks at her more oddly than he was previously, (after all, she is a tiefling), "Miss..." T'riss shakes herself, "It's alright, sir. My apologies." She quickly finishes the wrap and ties it off.

Ghosting over the deck, she bends over behind Shael and whispers in her ear, "We have a problem. Dangerous stowaway. I'm going to take care of it. Flit will come get you if I need help."

T'riss vanishes from the deck. No one noticed her leave.

In the hold, she appears noiselessly, Sinking into the Shadows and slipping into the edges of the Shadow Plane, she blinks a few times...

And a heated body shows in her infravision. Quick analysis shows it to be Kethryl.

Another quick jump and she stands a few feet out of his reach. She drops a light stone and simultaneously throws a special orb of substance at Kethryl. It smacks against him and explodes, setting free a thick viscous substance that attaches him to the wall. It magically expands out within a breath and encases him in a skin-tight nigh-impenetrable cocoon against the ship wall.

T'riss presses her sword against his throat, it pulses as it feels his blood flow beneath it, and holds her buckler tight against her body, protecting her organs if he was to somehow burst free. "Every instinct tells me to slit your throat now, Kethryl. Every experience, every bit of knowledge I have, tells me to end it now. Flit has let me know everything I need to. But because I'm not just some assassin, I'm going to give you one chance to tell me why I shouldn't do so. To explain what the hell you are doing on this ship."

Kethryl reacts instinctively. But as fast as he is, the teifling is faster. He cannot get his illusion up in time to make a difference. It is hovering behind T'riss, worse than useless. His smile, however, is cold and heartless. The tan elf has changed since she last saw him, and it has obviously not been for the better.

"Hello to you, too, T'riss. Finally giving inta that demon nature of yours, eh? Just gonna slit ol' Kethryl's throat in cold blood? Tsk, tsk." Staring into her eyes, the first hint of doubt flashes across his own. "Fine, then. I'm here because I was contacted that there was a lot of money to be gained by taking out the walking corpse." The lie leaves his lips effortlessly, with the ease of many uses. "I didn't imagine that you would be on board too." He smiles as the second lie in as many seconds passes his lips, confident in his ability, and disdaining of the teifling. A sneer curls the upper corner of his mouth. "Though it's an added bonus that the Banite is on board. They make a lot of enemies, you know. _Rich_ enemies, if ya get my meaning. I could split it with ya, if ye'd kindly cut me out of these bonds." He nods at the stuff covering his arms. "What'ya say? It's over a million gold in total for the both of them. Say, 300,000 for ye? I did do all the work of tracking 'em here."

****

Koravel slips into the kitchens after Shree, and pulls out a bottle of his own. Draining the entire thing in one go, he uncorks another and seats himself beside her. "Ya all right? Ye look a bit tired..."

Endellion looks at Kor tiredly but offers him an amused smile at the speed in which he drinks

"Remind me never to give you a bottle of something good, it'd be wasted on you" she grins and takes another swig "What I would give for something with a bit of flavour..." she grimaces

"I'm used to only healing me," she explains. "Doing it to other people... it kinda sucks the life out of me after a while. That and I'm a bit worried about something when we get to Baldur's Gate. With the Zhent being involved I'm afraid that..." she pauses and looks at Koravel. "I suppose it would hurt to tell you. I work for the Harpers and when we get to Baldur's Gate I'm going to have to tell someone about all this Zhent activity. Knowing them, they already know everything and have an actual agent already picked to take my place with this group... folk are right to call us 'Meddlers'. I'm just a scout, or message carrier if it's important, nothing more than that as it's what I'm 'good' at - contacts and places, that's my 'thing' I suppose. Plus a few other things..." she adds with some embarrassment. "Anyway I can't deny it makes sense to have someone a _little_ higher up the chain of command around, I can't blame them," she looks quite miserable but brighten up when something catches her eye.

"Ah ha! Brandy!!!" she gets up and grabs the bottle. "Now _this_ is worth drinking and until we get to Baldur's Gate I've got nothing to worry about because there is nothing I can do. So....." She gives Koravel a wicked little smile, her initial sadness and fatigue now gone. "Let's go hide on deck, watch Shael eat that druid and share this bottle while we're at it. Unless you have plans that is."

Koravel smiles at Shree. "That would be a wonderful plan. And since you did 'hire' me for this mission..." He looks directly at her. "Where you go, I go. You're not getting away from me now." He grabs her hand, and the two sweep upstairs, and carry out their plan.

****

Shael sidles up to the Druid after the wounded are cared for, "So, Druid..." She walks a circle around him, judging him up close much like a buyer judges a horse. She stops in front of him and looks him boldly in the eye, "What's your name?"

****

T'riss raised her dagger threateningly, easily seeing through the lie. "You had better—"

She was interrupted quite suddenly by a loud pop next to her, as something shifted planes. She leapt back, blade at the ready, but lowered it when she saw who it was. "Lovely. I bet I know who you've come from. Quite a day for reunions."

The imp impatiently dropped a letter, which T'riss caught. "Hurry, hurry. Read it. I must take answer back to master."

T'riss ignored the imp, turning back to Kethryl. She studies him carefully, looking appraisingly into his eyes. The layers of calm and bardic cheer strip away and all that's left is the cold calculating stare of an assassin...an Assassin who's been plying her trade in one way or another for centuries.

"Why would someone hire you to kill the corpse...if I sent someone to do it, I'd send a priest or a ranger who could still cast healing spells. Not one who's obviously given in to _his_ darker nature...That and I know your capabilities and you're far beyond the corpse; it's beneath you, and if I learned one thing about you during our little adventure is you have more pride than sense."

She flashes her teeth in an unfriendly smile, "Why don't you try again, Kethryl?"

Not removing her eyes from Kethryl, she speaks to the Imp, "I have a feeling it's going to be a while, Imp. You're more than welcome to stay and watch; things might get bloody if he doesn't speak..."

Nothing in her eyes is reminiscent of T'rissiira Halidor. She's fallen into "Catwalk"...a ruthless if honorable assassin working the Cage and the Planes for her slavemaster. She's "Tiefling", assassin and entertainer to drow. If Tymora has compunctions on the darker side of her Hand, then she's not showing it now.

T'riss touches Flit's mind and connects through it to Shael. "_**Shael...no one comes down."**_

Above deck, Shael keeps her smile on the Druid, but internally turns to ice. The timbre of T'riss' mind...She thinks,_"Uthgar! not again..."_

The imp gets angry, flittering down and impatiently nudging at T'riss hand, which is closed on the letter. "No, no. Master says you read now, give him answer."

T'riss sneers. "You can wait, or your master- Daggoth- he can come himself."

The imp gets really angry now; he does not like her preventing him from performing his duty. "Master not come for mere mortal! Master really powerful now. Master cannot spare time. Master send Loki with message, Loki deliver, lady tiefling accept or master sends bigger thing to give message!" the little creature is furious now.

T'riss is unfazed by the creature's wrath. Kethryl watches in amusement. "Tell your Master that I've got an old enemy of his in my clutches that isn't talking. I'm sure he'll want to come himself. Now pike off, I'm busy."

The imp appears to be about to attack T'riss head on, but he suddenly vanishes in mid-strike.

A few seconds later, what at first seems like a ghost appears. If you look closer you can see that it is a magical image of a humanoid male. He is wearing black robes with gold trim, and a hood. The only thing you can see inside it is two glowing red eyes, and out of the sleeves hang two large claws, wreathed in unholy fire and shadow magic.

Daggoth walked around T'riss with his claws behind his back. "You obviously do not understand the duties of a god, even a minor one. And why you were so rude to poor Loki? That is unlike you. What has changed?" The apparition shrugged, dismissing the question as unimportant. "No matter. I do not have time to waste. All I ask is that you deliver the elfling to my priests waiting on the docks of Baldurs Gate, alive. I would like to show him my gratitude for attempting to have me killed. I am sure you would prefer not to kill him, though I admit it would not pain me greatly if you did. Do you agree?" he stops, waiting for T'riss' answer.

T'riss still doesn't take her eyes off Kethryl, but there's no way that Daggoth could avoid seeing the look in them. "Nothing's changed, Cutter, but I'm rather busy." She thinks for a moment, "If you think your followers can hold him without letting him escape, give me a lock and I'll take him there now."

Daggoth chuckles. "I can do one better. It is merely the docks outside of the temple sector, I'm sure you have been there before. The priests will be waiting."

Kethryl sneered at the thing. "Rather petty, is it not, Daggoth? That a god would come all this way merely to take revenge on a mortal?"

Daggoth ignored him and leaned close to T'riss' ear, speaking in barely a whisper. "The temple sector. Deliver him at the Drunken Rat Inn. My followers will be waiting. Remember. Deliver him, and you shall have a great reward."

T'riss pressed her blade tightly against Kethryl's throat, letting him know she is aware of his movements.

Daggoth vanished with a final, hollow laugh.

And Kethryl made his move.

****

The druid seems surprised that barbarian is talking to him. "Name?" he says, his voice sounds more like a growl, "Names speak of cities, though the wild elves who raised me call me Baenlyn, humans call me Norsan, choose what you will..." he says, his voice is not unfriendly but it is fairly alarming.

He stands up and looks around, the wounded now all dealt with and some measure of balance returned to the ship he looks around for a comfortable place to sit... or stand, finding no available seating.

Shael isn't put off by his growling voice, or his disdain for the trappings of the city. "Being human, then, I'll go with Norsan." She looks about at the wounded he's tended, "You're a fine healer, by the way. Pleasure meeting you, Norsan." She saunters off and "nonchalantly" sits on the hatch that leads into the hold. _Come on, T'riss...get it over with..._

****

The elf's eyes glow a bright red, and T'riss started back with surprise. She muttered a word of command, and the cocoon wrapped himself around the elf entirely. Her sigh of relief was short-lived, however.

Kethryl projected his thoughts into her mind. "So, T'rissiira. This is what you have fallen to. We all have our demons, indeed, but you... you would deliver me over to a god of such evil? I simply can't have that."

Lines of orange appear at stress points on what is holding him and then suddenly, it ruptures and explodes outward, what is left of it hits T'riss in the face. A second word of command, and there are suddenly four Kethryls, all taunting T'rissiira. "Now what, O Mighty Teifling?" he asks. The elf shifts, and she no longer knows which is real, and which is merely an illusion.

T'riss smiles as the substance rolls off her face, harmless to her. "Time to roll the dice, then."

Trusting Tymora to aid her she grabs an illusion randomly. Sure enough, her Lady's favor holds and she grabs the correct form: Kethryl. Taken off guard by the immediate capture, Kethryl barely has time to react.

Immediately, T'riss begins widely and randomly Piking with great speed and frequency. While she's used to it herself, Kethryl is certainly not. Somehow, during the moments between jumps, T'riss manages to slap some of the substance back onto Kethryl. Not enough of it remains to encase Kethryl, but there is still enough to wrap around and pin his arms to his body.

The elf flairs wildly, and he is not entirely powerless. His weapons found the teifling's body more than once during the course of their piking. T'riss felt the blades, but nothing was going to stop her now.

They finally arrive out in front of The Drunken Rat and, sure enough, there are a group of cowled figures waiting in the shadows of the inn.

Taking no chances, T'riss sharply pronounces a single word and jabs Kethryl's leg with her finger. Pain blossoms in Kethryl's already pike-sick body and shoots throughout his leg. T'riss has internally ruptured Kethryl's major femoral blood vessels and left a small channel for them to leak out of. If he's not healed, the elf will bleed out.

She lifts him with an unnatural strength by the back of his belt and carries him toward the cowled figures "Lay your spell, and fast. If you don't want him to die, then heal him too." She presses a dagger against Kethryl's back where his kidneys lie.

Hours of mindless bickering, betrayal, and aggravation come to a head.

T'riss has had enough.

Unfortunately for the teifling, Daggoth is not the only god interested in the tan elf's fate.

An otherworldly voice echoes softly on the wind around her. "_Ciaya, falyth."_

T'riss can barely hear the whisper, but the effects are perfectly clear. A flash of white illuminates the area, and Kethryl, with a final smirk at his would-be captors, vanishes. A mocking laugh floats over the air, followed by the elf's voice. "Too late, pretty teifling, far too late. While you were busy piking around with me, your friends are going to learn how to swim." A grim chuckle fades away on the night air, and Kethryl is gone.

The teifling's curses follow him into the night.

****

At the ship, in the kitchens, in an otherwise harmless box of ale, a grim-looking device sits inside one of the bottles. Every now and then, a whisper of a word could be heard, if one were listening closely. The whispers are getting louder.

And the elf had left nothing to chance. In the cargo hold, a fire was blazing.

****

The sudden stillness of the boat had not gone unnoticed to the Druid; he could feel the air around him growing warm.

"Fire..." he said simply. He looked over at the land that he could now see from here, easily within his swimming reach, but the others, well, he was not so sure about them. Best to let them know.

"Fire!" he said, a little more loudly this time, "Fire below-decks!" he shouts, attempting to get the captain's attention.

****

Kethryl lands on the shore near a temple, dropped off there by whatever otherwordly power had picked him up. He slipped inside the temple, chuckling to himself. By the time they are done dealing with the fire, the real threat will blow them all to pieces. Teeny tiny pieces, floating hither and thither on the winds. It was awfully windy today, wasn't it? That naughty tiefling and her bloody piking around...

The attendants on duty shake their heads at the elf's plight. They attempt to get him to lay down, but he continues to pace and mutter to himself.

****

Koravel looks up at the Druid's call, and smiles. He is sitting on the side of the boat, with Endellion, and doesn't even bother to rise. "Well, if it's a fire, I imagine ye can put it out, eh, big fella? Ya need some help, I'd be happy t' do whatever is needed."

Azrael seems calm despite the fact that the ship is on fire. But then, Azrael always seemed calm.

The crew however, quickly began to ferry water down to the cargo hold, forming a line to attempt to put out the fire.

The captain is furious. "By Umberlee's tits! Who in the nine hells set fire to my boat! I'll bet my entire ale stash it was that tiefling wench o' yours!" he takes a rather large axe from his belt and starts to search for T'riss.

****

T'rissiira's eyes blaze red and she curses loudly. She grabs one of Daggoth's followers and shakes him. Her nails have lengthened to claws and she nicks his skin through his tunic. "Could you have moved a little slower? I have a message for your _god_," she sneers the word, "If Shael dies, if my _horses _die, because he wanted Kethryl and couldn't bother to come get him himself, then he's going to learn just how much a god, especially a minor one, has to deal with when a Chosen comes knocking. Understand?"

She throws him back and Disappears.

T'riss begins to dance a dangerous line with Time and the Planes. With the help of a spell and an artifact she has, if she can hit just the right combination of Planes in just the right order, she can arrive a few minutes earlier than she normally would. One wrong move, though, and all is lost... including herself.

Shael runs to the horse hold, trying to calm the animals, when Flit comes flying in, squalling in alarum.

T'riss appears out of the air, drawn and haggard. Her skin is a far lighter blue than it should be, and there are shocks of white in her black hair. Blood seeps out of a multitude of wounds, caused by Kethryl's unerring accuracy with his blades, even in the midst of being piked all over Faerun.

Shael gasps in horror at her comrade's ragged appearance. "T'riss! Balls, what's--"

T'riss gasps out, "No time! Get the horses!" Shael grabs a handful of the horses' reins, fortunately all of them. T'riss gropes and catches hold of Liridor's tail and reaches for her innate teleportative magic.

She fumbles, and loses her focus, her mind realizing what was about to happen, as knowledge of the bomb is shouted at her by Tymora.

****

Kethryl slipped outside, without a word of explanation, far from being healed. He walked out to the shoreline, and smiled. The elf can see the boat from where he stood. Glancing up at the sun, he muttered to himself, "Too late, little teifling. Too late." Kethryl spread his hands, and a sadistic smile crossed his features. " Boom."

With a sound that could easily be heard from the shore, a full mile away, the aft end of the ship exploded upward in a spray of blood, wood, and cargo. Koravel is thrown into the sea, a plank of wood skewering his chest and spine, and making it nearly impossible to move, much less swim. The ex-paladin sank like a stone into the deep, his armor weighing him down, unable even to offer a final prayer, for his god had forsaken him long ago.


End file.
